


Accidentally Yours

by tricia_16



Series: Yours [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (for the bite not sex), (not a major plot point), Accidental Mating, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Cocky Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 84,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: After a misunderstanding between Dean and Castiel results in Castiel’s mating bite on Dean’s neck and Dean out of work without anywhere to live, Dean figures it’s only fair for the alpha to have to pay for his mistake—literally.Not surprisingly, having an alpha and omega in the same house whose scents are as compatible as theirs quickly turns into some of the hottest sex either of them have ever had.But it’s no big deal, because it’s just sex.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean/Others
Series: Yours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887739
Comments: 927
Kudos: 1521
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, you wonderful, amazing, endlessly supportive WIP readers! Welcome to another fic by yours truly.
> 
> As per usual, I'm working with [Brianna](https://twitter.com/bookbag09) and [Eliza](https://twitter.com/Darth_Pastry) to make this fic as error-free and easy to read as possible, so if you haven't already, please go show them some love. I would not be able to put out so much content without their constant help and support.
> 
> That said, let's move onto the fic, hm? **You should read the tags.** Go on, go read them now. I'll wait. _*waits*_ Did you go look? Good. Now, did you see that dub-con tag? Did you see the Dean/Others tag? Let's talk about those. Both of those things only apply to the first chapter. There is no Dean/Others once Dean meets Castiel, and as the tags suggest, the dub-con tag only applies to a mating bite misunderstanding. **All sex in this story is 100% consensual.** And there's a lot of it. 
> 
> I've had a lot of fun writing this so far, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I have!
> 
> Let's do this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s lips are currently wrapped around a cock for the second time tonight, and his cheeks are hollowed out as he desperately sucks who he refers to as Alpha #2 off. He’s purposely putting on a show, fluttering his eyelashes and moaning and groaning like he’s scarfing down the world’s most delectable treat instead of this poor schmuck’s entirely average cock. Honestly, for an alpha, it’s downright embarrassing, but Dean’s learned he gets paid better when he makes every alpha think they’re god’s gift to omegas, so he fake gags and slobbers as he pretends to struggle to swallow him down even though the truth is, Dean could deep throat the whole thing in his sleep.

Thankfully, Dean’s over exaggerated sounds and coy looks through his eyelashes combined with the scent of four other horny alphas all burning with possessiveness and jealousy has this guy’s knot popping in record time, and Dean moans like the omega whore they all want him to be when he swallows down every drop. Except, of course, for the few he intentionally allows to “accidentally” spill from the corners of his mouth with a practiced look of surprise and shame when he can’t take it all.

Two down, three to go.

The rules are, the men in the room get Dean to get them off however they want. He can jack them off, he can suck them down, he can take his own cock in hand and press it up against an alpha’s and stroke them together, he can have an alpha come from thrusting between his thighs, and hell, he’s even had an alpha lube up and fuck the arches of his feet once upon a time. But the prize at the end of the tunnel is, well, _his_ tunnel. 

His sweet omega ass.

Alphas can finger him or lick him open if he allows it, but only one alpha gets to knot him, and it’s the one patient enough to wait his turn. It sounds simple enough, but men in general are very visual, and then you throw in the alpha thing and all that comes with it _and_ dangle a sexy as fuck omega male like himself servicing alphas in the nude in front of them, and it’s almost laughable how fast some of these guys get off. To be fair, Dean’s been doing this since the day he turned 18, so he’s got a solid five years under his belt and he knows _exactly_ how to play every damn one of them like a fiddle, so it’s not exactly an even playing field. But he prides himself on being a hard worker, and a damn good one, and the fact that he has more repeat customers than anybody here and a waiting list more than a month long is more than enough proof that no alpha leaves his room unsatisfied.

Case in point, the alpha whose knot just popped is definitely going to give him a five-star rating. He can already tell just by the way the guy flops bonelessly back onto the bench and aims a satiated little smirk his way as Alpha #3 gets to his feet and approaches where Dean is still on his knees on the floor. 

He aims a smile at the other two waiting alphas, one stocky and blonde and the other sitting ram-rod straight with crazy blue eyes and dark, _just fucked_ hair, and sends up a silent prayer that it’s the latter who gets to knot him tonight. 

The alpha dropping his Patience standard drawers demands his attention though, so he locks eyes with him and forgets the other two for now. “All that for me?” Dean asks innocently, licking his lips and getting ready for the next slightly above average alpha cock the guy pulls out. This guy smells like Old Spice, which honestly kinda gives him the heebs since it reminds him of creepy friends of his dad’s, but he’s been doing this long enough that his body is trained not to react to it. 

“All for you, baby,” the alpha replies.

He’d roll his eyes if he knew he could get away with it. Instead, Dean plays his part by widening his eyes and nodding his head eagerly in response, and the man wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in. Dean opens his mouth obediently and lets the stranger’s cock slide in, his groan only _half_ for show when he feels the girthy cock stretching his lips at the same time the dude’s fingers tighten in his hair. He’s always liked it more when they get a little rough, but letting that show has gotten his customers overly excited and kicked out by the beefy betas standing guard at the entrance, so he tries to keep it at bay.

Truth is, he loves his job. He feels safe here. He’s treated well and one of his best friends is in charge of his bookings, which means she knows who he likes and therefore exactly who to put in a room together to make it as enjoyable for him as possible. He loves sex, he loves making people feel good, and he _definitely_ loves bringing home in a night what he used to make in a week. He lives large (and “irresponsibly” according to his brother) because of it, in a swanky condo with good security and all the amenities a guy could ask for. He’s got a classic car he can afford the upkeep on (those parts ain’t cheap) on top of the disgusting price of gas it takes to keep his Baby on the road, and enough money to help him avoid the less pleasant parts of life, like cooking and cleaning.

He’s got it good, and it’s all because he was lucky enough to be born an omega. Well, a male omega. They’re extremely rare and highly respected in society, and he’s been reaping the benefits since the day his ass started slicking. Which reminds him, he better keep his mind on the prize here or Alpha #3 is going to notice the lack of slick in the air. He’s way too used to his own scent to notice it most of the time, but it’s easy enough to tell when his cheeks are slipping together and when they’re bone dry, and they’re somewhere in the middle right now that isn’t gonna cut it with a room full of horny alphas.

He concentrates on the sensation of the heavy cock gliding along his tongue and gives a good, solid suck, drawing a low groan from the man currently fucking his face. 

“Up on the bed,” the man gasps. Dean arches his eyebrows, and the man pulls his swollen cock out of his mouth. “Wanna get a good look at that tight little ass of yours all wet and leaking. Present for me.”

He immediately flips to his personal highlight reel in his head to get himself slick the way this guy wants at the same time he rises fluidly to his feet and climbs onto the bed. The mattress is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the floor, so he’s more than happy to get on his hands and knees and arch his back for the alpha. For all the alphas, actually, and he feels arousal tighten like a spring in his gut when he breathes in the sudden spike of alpha arousal in the room. He can feel a flush work its way down his neck to his chest and his slick dampening his cheeks as he thinks about all five of them watching him, wanting him. 

He hopes Blue Eyes is packing, because he can already feel his inner omega jonesing to get fucked nice and hard by a fat alpha knot. 

_Fuck._ They haven’t even been at it for 45 minutes yet but his cock is already achingly hard and heat is prickling at his skin, and he knows he’s going to have to walk a tight line in order to stay slick without getting too worked up. It’s not an official rule, but he likes to keep his orgasm for the alpha who wins the prize at the end. It’s hard on his body to come too many times and it started sucking the fun out of it for him, so he tries to limit it. He’s only a few days away from his heat now, though, and it always makes his arousal sharper and stronger, which in turn makes it so much harder to ignore.

“Such a good slut,” the man rasps, and it’s only Dean’s experience that keeps him from flinching and his scent from souring. 

“That’s your first warning,” the beta guard says calmly.

No humiliation in this room is one of his rules, and all of the alphas should know that if they read his profile like they’re supposed to. 

The man changes tactics immediately. “Such a pretty hole.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, grinning over his shoulder. “You want it?”

“Not as bad as you do,” the man tosses back. “Look at you, leaking for me.”

“Can’t help it. You smell good, alpha,” Dean lies.

“Let me see you ride your fingers,” the man asks.

Dean’s response comes out on a genuinely breathless, “Yeah, okay.” He can hear the heavy breathing of the man behind him, and he clears his throat to say, “Gonna need to get on my back.”

A beat of silence. “What are you waiting for?”

Alrighty then. Dean rolls onto his back and spreads his legs, then slides his hands down his chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples before heading south over his belly and onto his ass. He uses one hand to pull himself as open as possible and waits a few seconds for the paying customers to get a good look at his hairless taint and balls. He can see the blue-eyed alpha trying not to look too obvious as he leans to the side for a better look, and he gives him a cocky smile and a wink before he starts tracing his hole with his finger to get it nice and wet.

The alpha standing in front of him starts stroking his cock, and Dean checks it out to see how far gone the guy is. He’s surprised to see a hint of a knot at the base already, telling him the guy isn’t going to last very long. Sure enough, the guy starts babbling about how sweet Dean smells before he’s even two fingers deep, and all it takes for the alpha to come like a fucking geyser is one innocent question.

“Wanna give me a hand, alpha?”

The dude locks up and shoots over the backs of Dean’s thighs with a growl, painting him with a huge load of alpha cum one rope at a time. Dean feels fresh slick leaking out of him and smells their scents mingling—a pungent, repulsive smell that helps knock his arousal down a notch almost immediately.

There’s only two alphas left, and Dean works on catching his breath as Blue Eyes and the other dude seem to size each other up, trying to decide who’s going to wait it out and who isn’t. 

Castiel is stuck in place. He couldn’t make a move even if he wanted to. Everything within him is screaming at him to mount the omega in front of him, and for the first time in his entire life, he’s not at all confident that he has the control required to stop himself from doing it. 

He’s never done anything like this before. He’s never even considered it. He’s almost thirty and perpetually single thanks to his general distrust of people, his awkward demeanor, and lack of typical “alpha” behavior. His doctor has been concerned because his already low testosterone levels started dropping, and after two years of staring at the numbers getting lower and lower, Castiel finally accepted the medical advice that he needs to knot a willing omega to help get a boost if he wants the option of fathering a child someday. 

Of course, needing an omega and finding one are two entirely different things, and because he’s gay on top of being an alpha, his options are extremely limited. His entire romantic and sexual history consists of a handful of betas and one ballsy alpha, so he wasn’t even sure where to start. He tried a rut service first, but he could only find two companies in town who had male omegas and just going by looks alone (small, meek, feminine), he didn’t find himself attracted to either of them. He wanted a _manly_ omega, and it was only when he called his brother Gabriel in a fit of frustration that his brother recommended Patience. 

Castiel had turned him down right away—the idea of being with the same person as his brother was a hard no for him regardless of how rare male omegas are—but then Gabriel explained he hadn’t used the service himself, but that he knows a male omega who works there who is completely Castiel’s taste. 

Castiel was curious enough to Google the website, and all it took was one look at the gorgeous man on screen to know that “Dean” was _exactly_ the kind of omega he was looking for. Dean was tall and built enough that he could absolutely pass as an alpha, but the curvy hips and delicate facial features were all omega, and just looking at him was enough to make Castiel’s pants uncomfortably tight and have him retrieving his wallet to fish out his credit card. 

He was disappointed to have to wait almost a month for an appointment, but there was no part of him that wasn’t willing. And that was _before_ he got a whiff of this particular omega. Even from so many feet away, Castiel can tell Dean smells like heaven. He’s having a surprisingly easy time ignoring the scent of the other alphas in the room, probably because Dean’s scent is particularly intoxicating for him. Dean’s scent is crisp and fresh, like the great outdoors or a just-rained-on forest. He smells like adventure, like a rejuvenating deep breath at the top of a mountain, and it’s invigorating. 

He definitely wasn’t expecting Dean’s scent to get even more appealing, but he keeps getting sporadic wafts of burning wood, which also seems to coincide with what he’s willing to bet is genuine arousal coming from Dean. Granted, Castiel is watching him quite closely, but he can easily link Dean’s flush spreading or his slick— _god,_ his slick—glistening more obscenely around his hole anytime he scents the smoky hints, and as far as he’s concerned, this beautiful man should always, _always_ feel so good to have him smelling like this. 

Castiel is more than willing to be one of many who make Dean feel as good as he deserves. Of course, Dean smelling this good also means that Castiel’s erection would likely never die in his presence, but there’s some things that are worth the insistent throbbing between his legs. Like having the chance to bury himself between those slick cheeks. He’s not picky, either—any part of him will do as long as it’s inside of Dean. Fingers, mouth, cock, _knot._

His fingers clench down around the wooden bench he’s currently sitting on as another impossibly strong wave of arousal hits him from the very thought, and he acknowledges that maybe he does care after all. He came here to be with an omega, after being advised by his doctor to do so, and so he should wait. It feels as if he’s been waiting for eternity as it is, so what’s another few minutes, after all. He lifts a single eyebrow in the direction of the alpha next to him, daring him silently to _just try_ and outlast him.

“Somebody gonna help me out over here, or what?” Dean asks, snapping Castiel’s attention back to him. 

Thankfully, the direct invitation is all the other alpha seems to be able to take, because he stands and walks towards Dean. Now that there’s more free space, Castiel moves over on the bench to get a better view of Dean encouraging the fourth man to insert his finger along Dean’s own. Castiel is suddenly intensely, painfully jealous that he’s not the one with his hand on the beautiful curve of Dean’s hip, feeling what looks like smooth skin covered in a soft, slight cushion of fat in all the right places. 

Castiel wants to feel the give of Dean’s supple skin, his fingertips digging into the meat of his frankly astonishing behind while his nose presses flush to his scent gland. A sharp look from the alpha next to him alerts him to the fact that the low, growling noise in his ears is actually emanating from him, and he flushes to the tips of his ears when he realizes how possessive he’s currently feeling about somebody he not only doesn’t know, but who he will undoubtedly never see again after this. 

Unless, of course, he’s willing to shell out the exorbitant amount of money he paid for today a second time—which, he has to admit, isn’t completely out of the question. 

Just looking at the omega in front of him taking those fingers like every alpha’s wet dream has saliva flooding his mouth and his cock painfully hard. His heart is racing, he feels hot all over, and if he never smelled anything _but_ this omega ever again he would be completely fine with that. 

“I can take it, alpha, don’t worry.”

Good lord, Dean’s asking for another finger already. Castiel’s cock seems to strain even more urgently against the cotton of the thin pants he was given, and it takes all of his self-control not to palm over it to give himself a little bit of relief. He wants to make every second he gets with the breathtaking man count, and in order for that to happen, he needs to keep his hands to himself. 

“I want your mouth first,” the alpha with Dean demands. 

Dean grins lavishly, and he somehow manages to twist himself around so that his head hangs off of the edge of the mattress without ever dislodging the fingers that are still plunging in and out of him. The alpha with him doesn’t even give him a chance to get comfortable before he’s shoving his cock down Dean’s throat along with a fourth finger into his hole, and Castiel finds his hands balling into fists as he’s torn somewhere between jealous and angry. 

Incredibly, Dean moans like he’s loving every second of the rough face fucking, and Castiel inhales another breath filled with the unmistakable scent of bonfire. _Fuck,_ Dean is beyond gorgeous and smells incredible when he’s lost in the throes of pleasure. Dean holds his upper body completely still as the fat cock thrusts in and out of his mouth, and only his hand moves while he continues fingering himself. 

Castiel can _just_ hear the wet squelching sound of four fingers forcing their way into and out of Dean’s slick channel, and the sight of Dean’s hole stretching to accommodate the width of them is so filthy it makes Castiel doubt he’ll last long enough to do anything but pop his knot in his pants like a teenager. 

He opens his mouth to take a deep breath that isn’t full of the enticing scent of Dean in the midst of a sex act, and immediately, he feels his brain beginning to clear and the painful edge to his arousal ebbing. He can do this; he can keep it together. He’s not likely to have a chance to be with a male omega outside of a paying opportunity ever, and he’s not going to do anything to hinder this one. 

Dean’s gaze suddenly flicks over to him, their eyes catch, and he’s sure his heart stops beating altogether when Dean holds eye contact as he sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks again so that Castiel can actually _see_ the outline of the other alpha’s cock through Dean’s cheeks. His jaw hanging open means some kind of undignified sound squeaks out of him at the sight, and he would snap his mouth shut to stop any others slipping free if he thought he could survive another whiff of Dean’s burning scent while maintaining this heated eye contact with the sexiest man he’s ever seen. He knows he can’t, though, so he keeps his mouth open even though he’s sure it’s not an attractive look for him. Dean turns his attention back to the task at hand, and Castiel finds that without Dean’s heavy gaze and sinful scent muddling his brain, watching the alpha speed up his thrusting into Dean’s mouth is much less likely to push him over the edge.

That isn’t to say it isn’t arousing at all, of course, because he can still see Dean peeking up at the alpha through his long eyelashes. Dean’s cheeks are painted red from either pleasure or exertion and his sinful lips are stretched tight and wrapped around an alpha cock even wider than his own, and frankly, he’s everything Castiel has ever fantasized about finding someday. It seems the man with Dean has a similar thought process, because like all three alphas before him, he lasts only a few more minutes before his knot pops.

Castiel completely disregards the scents and sounds associated with the alpha’s orgasm, because that means _he won._ He outlasted the other four alphas and won the chance to have sex with the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, who just happens to be a male omega _and_ who smells like all the good things in life. 

He watches eagerly when the alpha gets out of the way, leaving Dean to shuffle until he’s better positioned on the bed. Dean grabs a water bottle from an end table, chugs down half, recaps it, and then looks towards Castiel. Their eyes catch, time stops, and before Castiel has made the conscious decision to stand, he’s on his feet and eating up the distance between them in three large strides. 

Absolutely everything disappears except the green of Dean’s eyes, the darkening of his pupils, and the breathtaking smile Dean aims directly at him.

“Hey, alpha,” Dean croons.

No. This is impersonal enough as it is, and as ridiculous as it is, he doesn’t want to be just another alpha to Dean. 

“Castiel,” he replies. 

If Dean’s surprised by the correction, he doesn’t show it. “You’re a little overdressed, Castiel.”

Dean’s right of course, and although Castiel never takes his eyes off of Dean for even a moment, he also doesn’t waste any time before pulling off his shirt now that it’s been brought to his attention. Dean drags his gaze over his shoulders and down his chest so heatedly that he feels his cock twitch in his pants. Dean’s eyes drop even further, and Dean hungrily eyeing the bulge barely concealed by the damp fabric is enough to have him losing those, too. And then he’s gloriously naked... and completely unsure what to do next.

“Don’t back out on me now, Castiel,” Dean goads him. “I want that alpha cock.”

He can’t make himself wait another second after _that,_ so he climbs onto the bed and fits himself between Dean’s spread legs, deciding to take him in the position Dean was already in. Dean’s hard cock is trapped between their stomachs like this, his chest is hard and muscular with just the tiniest swell of omega breasts, and everywhere their bodies touch, Castiel’s subjected to soft, smooth, hairless skin. He can feel the heat coming off of Dean’s body, and this close to him, his smoky scent is absolutely _intoxicating,_ making Castiel’s head spin with lust and his inner alpha to rear its ugly head. 

He can see Dean’s pulse racing, the solid _thump, thump, thump,_ on his throat drawing Castiel’s eyes to lock onto the column of Dean’s neck. He wants to dive into it face-first, to lick and suck and make his claim there while he can, but instead, he searches for control and clenches his hands in the bed sheets. 

“C-Can I—Am I allowed to scent you?”

Dean licks his swollen lips before they curve into a knowing smile. “Drink it in, Castiel. I’m all yours until your knot goes down.”

Dean tilts his head to the side, and Castiel’s nose moves instinctively to the bared skin. He sniffs and moves across the damp skin of Dean’s exposed neck one inch at a time until he locates the single most potent inch of skin on Dean’s entire body: his scent gland. His mouth fills with saliva as the intricacies of Dean’s scent that he couldn’t detect from so far away reveal themselves to him all at once. He moans, unabashed as he draws in lungful after lungful of the single best scent he’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Dean smells like outdoors on a rainy, summer day. Like every inch of his freckled skin rolled around in and soaked up the scent of moss and wet trees and a needle-covered path, but then was slowly dried by the sun. Dean smells _right,_ ripe and eager and so fucking _erotic_ he can hardly think through the way it’s clouding his brain. 

“Jesus,” Dean breathes beneath him. “You smell good, alpha. All warm and sweet. Want you to fuck me.”

It costs him, but Castiel manages to tear his nose away from Dean’s scent gland to look down at him. “Do you require additional prep?”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I like the stretch. I’m ready for your cock, big guy.”

Dean spreads his legs a little bit wider in invitation, and Castiel gets a whiff of Dean’s slick—wood burning, hissing and popping with a smoky, enticing edge to it that it has Castiel moving like a blur. His entire being is straining to give Dean what his omega body is so clearly craving, so he takes himself in hand and lines up with Dean’s entrance. The moment his cockhead kisses Dean’s hole, he feels Dean’s skin slippery with that fiery-smelling slick and still slightly open from the four fingers he was taking only minutes ago, and any semblance of control Castiel was clinging to _shatters._

He snaps his hips forward and sinks inside of Dean’s slick hole with one hard, fluid thrust, sliding into his tight, slick cavern all at once until his cock is sheathed to the hilt. Dean cries out with a guttural moan that he can _just_ hear over his own low moan of absolute rapture.

He’s never felt anything so good, didn’t even know something _could_ feel this good. He doesn’t have to ask if Dean’s enjoying his alpha cock because the scent of a burning hot bonfire surrounds him like a cloud and Dean’s eagerly wrapping his arms and legs around him to pull him in incrementally closer. Holy fuck, Dean feels _incredible,_ and Castiel is already drowning in pleasure. He’s lost in the sensation of a curvy omega wrapped around him for the first time and mind-blown by the way they line up without flaw in all the right places, and they’ve barely even gotten started. 

“Again,” Dean begs

That’s the moment Castiel discovers he’s helpless to deny Dean anything.

He pulls out halfway only to bury himself inside again, amazed when the second forceful thrust feels just as perfectly satisfying as the first. It motivates him to do it again, and again, and right out of the gate, he’s started a brutal, break-neck pace that he has no chance of sustaining and not a single thought in the world to change. 

_Jesus Christ._ Dean thought he was a lucky son of a bitch when he landed the sexiest alpha in the room, but to get fucked by an alpha who actually knows how to use what god gave him is even more rare than the control Castiel seems to have. 

He’s usually being ruthlessly fucked by now, without so much as a thought for his comfort, and yet Castiel stopped before he took him to make sure he was ready. And shit, is Dean ready. All that sex hair and the alpha’s low voice and the fucking ripped body had Dean ready and willing before Castiel even took his pants off.

 _Jesus,_ Castiel has a great cock. It’s perfectly straight and thick and long enough to reach all the right places without even having to try, and Dean’s not the least bit embarrassed by the way he’s moaning like a ten-dollar whore—mostly because it’s entirely genuine and he feels way too fucking good to care about what anybody else thinks of him right now. Castiel is fucking into him hard and deep, pounding his ass like it feels every bit as good for him as it does for Dean. And _fuck,_ it’s _really_ good. 

He’s had a lot of sex, okay? He’s been fucked by hundreds of alphas, and not a single one of them has ever stuffed him as perfectly as Castiel seems to be. His cock is stretching Dean just the way he likes it the most—enough to really feel it but not so much that he can’t enjoy it—and it’s long enough to thoroughly fill every little nook and cranny deep inside of him so that each powerful thrust has sparks crawling up his spine and lighting up his nerve endings. 

All of that is only enhanced further by the way Castiel smells so fucking good that his head feels like it’s spinning. His initial scent exudes comfort, reminding him of what he imagines a home with a doting mother would smell like: fresh baking. Warm, flaky pastry, and best of all, a light, crisp apple that made Dean drool as soon as he walked into the room. It’s slowly heating up and smelling more and more like apple cinnamon with every thrust of that fucking magnificent cock, and he wants to drown in it. 

He tries to resist it, tries not to surrender to the alpha/omega pull between them, but he only lasts about two minutes before he _has to_ give into biology and lift his head to nose at the crook of Castiel’s neck.

And _holy fuck,_ Castiel smells even better up-close and personal. The buttery warmth he’s pumping out is impossibly more inviting now that he can catch the hints of vanilla in it, and the tart, fresh apple scent is calling to him on a cellular level he can’t even begin to understand. Castiel smells _unbelievable,_ and Dean inches impossibly closer, rubbing his nose over his scent gland and inhaling like his life depends on it. The more he stimulates Castiel’s scent gland, the harder Castiel seems to pummel him, and the more Castiel’s scent starts to change. Dean was beginning to think he was immune to the scent of alpha arousal, but this guy, this scent? This is his own personal ambrosia. 

The pastry scent is really heating up now, thrust after thrust, getting hotter and sweeter, all baked apples and sugary cinnamon and _fuck him,_ but he wants to bury his face in his skin and feast right there for all of time. Or at least until this blue-eyed hottie gives into his inner alpha and knots him the way he’s gotta be dying to, because Dean is sure as fuck ready to feel the kinda full he only ever gets from a hung alpha. 

“Dean,” Castiel grits out, and hand to god, Dean can _feel_ the gush of slick inspired just from the way his name sounds in that low, sexy voice.

His head falls back onto the mattress and he looks up at the alpha on top of him, fucking _gorgeous_ with his face red with pleasure and his bright-blue eyes nearly entirely swallowed up by black. 

“Don’t stop,” Dean tells him, sure now that Castiel was never going to in the first place but absolutely positive that he needs Castiel to keep going no matter what. Castiel nods, eyes wild, and he rails into him even harder than before. His breath catches as Castiel fucks into him deep enough that he connects with his sweet spot. _“There!”_ Dean cries out. 

Obviously eager to please, Castiel keeps his thrusts just like that, nailing his prostate sporadically enough that Dean’s letting out high-pitched, desperate little whimpers as he gets pushed closer and closer to the edge with every point of contact.

His cock is _throbbing_ he’s so hard, and he’s suddenly desperately, fervently craving his release. He rolls his hips to meet Castiel half-way through each thrust, feeling wild and impatient with the pleasure and anticipation racing through him, knowing it’s all about to culminate in a mind-blowing orgasm. 

He doesn’t know what it is exactly, but something’s different here. Something’s making it better, hotter, inexplicably _more,_ and he doesn’t know if it’s his oncoming heat or something completely different but he does know that what should be a routine, missionary-position fuck is making lust curl his toes and his fingers dig into the alpha’s back with unprecedented pleasure. He’s already embarrassingly close, and he knows without a doubt that all he needs to topple over the edge is that huge fucking knot to pop inside of him.

Luckily, he’s been with enough alphas that he _also_ knows the best way to get it. 

He bats his eyelashes and exposes his neck. “Gonna knot me, alpha?”

“Castiel,” he growls, once again, leaning in to nose at his scent gland. _“God,_ you smell incredible.”

“Yeah? How about you fuck me like you mean it, then. Come on, Cas. _Harder.”_

_“Harder.”_

A growl rises in his chest as he gives into the animalistic urge to fuck Dean the way Dean wants it—the same way Castiel has wanted to since the moment he first laid eyes on him. He pulls out until just the fat head of his alpha cock is squeezed by the tight ring of muscle, and when Dean writhes needily beneath him, Castiel slams back into him. 

He fucks Dean hard and deep, his heavy balls slapping against Dean’s slick skin every time he bottoms out. The filthy sound is music to his ears, embellished by a symphony of pleasure-filled moans and groans coming from the pair of them. For Castiel’s part, this is easily the best sex he’s ever had, and now that he knows exactly how unbelievably good it feels to be with an omega, he knows without question that he’s absolutely ruined for all other betas or alphas from now on.

Nothing can possibly compare to Dean’s hot, slick insides, the way Dean’s needy hole _is made_ to clench down on his cock to draw him back in every time he pulls out, or the way Dean’s scent gets hotter and smokier the harder his nails dig into Castiel’s back. Castiel has never fucked like this before, never felt his inner alpha clawing at his insides and trying to burst out of him, bound and determined to fuck the orgasm right out of the omega beneath him.

 _Dean,_ Castiel remembers, trying to clear his rattled brain enough to keep in mind that Dean is a person and not just an omega. It’s a struggle even before Dean’s hands slide down to grope at his ass, urging him into a harder, faster, _impossible_ pace. Another powerful clench around his cock has him calling out, his nose dropping to Dean’s neck like a magnet as he feels his knot beginning to swell.

“Fuck _yes,”_ Dean pants.

Castiel hadn’t dared to at first, too afraid to cross an invisible line, but since Dean mouthed at his scent gland earlier, Castiel is now ready and eager to do the same to Dean. He opens his mouth and licks a wet stripe along his neck, feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head as the unique and indescribable flavor of _Dean_ hits his taste buds. 

His hips continue moving on auto-pilot, his instincts sustaining the rapid thrusts deep inside of Dean’s body as he mouths along Dean’s throat until he lands on his scent gland. Their scents combined—a sweet, sugary burning scent that reminds him of a roasted marshmallow—explodes onto his tongue and he’s _lost._ There’s absolutely no doubt about it: this scent, this taste, this _omega_ is everything he could possibly ever want, and he has the insane but undeniable urge to sink his teeth into him and claim him for his own. He wants to fuck Dean every day of his life and never get enough of him, lap at Dean’s hole until he’s covered in Dean’s slick, pump Dean full of his seed and breed him up until he’s nice and round, stomach swollen with their children, their family.

 _“Oh_ f-fuck,” Dean gasps, his Adam’s apple clicking audibly in his throat when he tries to swallow. “Come on, come on, come on.”

Castiel’s mouth fills with saliva, his knot starts swelling fatter and fatter, and every instinct he possesses is screaming at him to bite the omega, to claim him, to make Dean his forever and always. He tries to close his eyes, to think rationally, but his knot has started to catch on Dean’s rim, and the tighter fit, the squeeze, the needy _clench_ of the omega trying to keep him buried deep inside where he needs to spill his seed is all too overwhelming.

He’s so close now. He can feel his knot preparing to lock into place, feel the pressure low in his belly churning, spinning faster and faster, getting tighter and tighter as Dean’s pulse thunders beneath his lips. He sucks on Dean’s scent gland, on his _mating gland,_ pleased and proud and so fucking _gone_ when Dean calls out, “Do it! Do it, do it, do it, do it,” that he moves entirely on instinct.

He doesn’t think, he doesn’t hesitate, he just gives his omega exactly what he wants. He sinks his teeth into Dean’s neck, claiming him as his mate forever a split second after his knot pops and he empties his seed deep inside of Dean.

_Fuck,_ Castiel’s knot is big. It’s getting fatter and fatter with every thrust, and Dean is absolutely, without a doubt going to come on it without even being touched. With Cas’s mouth laying claim to his scent gland, his long fingers curled possessively around his hips and Dean’s hands full of pert, muscular ass, there’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell that he isn’t going to blow his load the second Castiel blows his.

“Oh f-fuck,” Dean gasps. The words feel like they get stuck in his throat and he has to purposely try to swallow to clear it in order to keep begging Castiel for what he needs. “Come on, come on, come on.”

He _needs_ that knot, needs it to—fuck, _yes!_ There it is!—swell and tug on his sensitive rim, making fireworks explode behind his closed lids every time Castiel’s fat cock gets stuck on the way out. It’s gonna pop soon, he can tell, and he just fucking knows Castiel is going to come so god damn hard, filling him up with come until he’s overflowing and it’s dripping out of him just how he likes it.

His ass clenches down, his inner omega trying to provoke the alpha’s knot to pop as he continues to bare his neck for Castiel. Castiel’s pounding thrusts are driving his knot deeper and deeper each time, and knowing he’s only seconds away from getting exactly what he wants has him needing it, craving it, seconds away from _begging_ for it. Castiel’s lips are like fire on his neck, hitting all the right spots, and when Castiel seals his mouth over his scent gland and _sucks,_ Dean damn near comes right then and there. 

“Do it!” he cries, crazy with lust and drunk on the scent of sweet apple cinnamon. He _needs_ Castiel’s knot, needs it like he needs air, and he’s so fucking close the only thing he can do is chant, “Do it, do it, do it, do it.”

White-hot pleasure surges through him, making him scream—actually _scream—_ when Castiel’s knot impales him completely and _pops._ His whole body locks up and goes rigid as his orgasm is _ripped_ out of him. His vision blurs as Castiel fucks him, stretches him, _owns him_ with his massive knot, and Dean’s suddenly coming so hard and so fast the force of it is almost painful.

And then, between one second and the next, his mind seems to rip in two.

Sharp teeth sink into his neck—into his _mating gland—_ and impossibly, he’s locking up a second time in a matter of seconds and coming untouched all over again, his cock spitting out feeble dribbles of cum as euphoria overtakes him. The alpha— _his_ alpha—is filling him with his seed, breeding him like he’s meant to be bred, forcing his knot in hard and so fucking deep and grinding inside of him so god damn good that he can’t catch his breath. Dean’s inner omega sings with pleasure, with smug satisfaction of landing such a strong, capable, _verile_ alpha, one that’s all his and only his and—

The other half of his brain kicks in, and outrage freezes his blood in his veins, turning his insides to ice. 

Castiel _bit him!_

Dean didn’t consent to this, he didn’t ask for it, and he sure as fuck didn’t want it!

 _“What the fuck,_ dude?” Dean shouts.

Well, it was meant to be a shout, but his body is still being wracked by pleasure. Castiel is still fucking coming inside of him, spurting hot and thick and pressed up snugly against his prostate, and Dean’s voice actually comes out more like a strangled whine than anything. 

He winces when Castiel’s teeth work themselves free from his neck, and although he can already _feel_ like something’s different, he lifts his hand to his mating gland and pulls it away wet with blood to confirm that Castiel really did break the skin. Castiel really fucking bit him and mated him without even asking, and Dean’s never been more pissed off in his entire life.

They’re locked together, but that doesn’t mean that Dean doesn’t give the fucker a two-handed shove the second Castiel pushes up to his hands. 

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” Dean snarls. “You can’t fucking _bite me,_ asshole! You can’t just _buy_ a mate! I’m a goddamn person with a fucking life and you just _ruined it_ by being a stupid, brainless, alpha knothead!”

Castiel’s blue eyes get wider and wider with every word Dean says, and by the time he’s done yelling at the guy, the sour scent of rejected alpha swamps his senses so completely he can hardly even catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” Castiel whispers hoarsely. “I’m so—I’m so sorry! I thought—”

“You thought that just because I enjoyed getting fucked by an alpha who actually knows how to use his knot for once that you could claim me without my consent?”

“No!” Castiel says quickly. “No, of course not! I’m not that kind of alpha. I would never do anything untoward—”

“You _just_ fucking did!” Dean points out.

He just catches a glimpse of the beta bodyguard before Castiel cries out, “AUGH! What—?” and looks over his shoulder. 

Dean knows he just got a shot of something or other that will make his knot go down faster. He’s more glad for it now than any time he’s been knotted without his consent, and honestly, he hopes it hurt Castiel like hell. 

He can hear the sounds of the other alphas being escorted out of the room where he knows they’ll be taken for questioning, but he can’t worry about that right now. Castiel smells so fucking putrid that Dean is busy concentrating on breathing through his mouth while he’s still out of breath from coming so hard twice in two minutes.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel says again. And Dean’s gotta give it to him, he sounds entirely genuine. If Dean didn’t already know this guy was a son of a bitch, he might even believe him. “I thought you wanted me to.”

“Why the fuck would I want you to bite me? I don’t even know you, dude. I have clients who I’ve been fucking _for years_ and none of those assholes ever tried to bite me! Hell, my coffee this morning lasted longer than you did!” Before Castiel can even open his mouth to try to defend himself, a scary reality hits Dean like a bus. “How the fuck am I supposed to work now? Nobody’s gonna want to fuck an omega with a brand, you jackass! You just fucked up my whole career!”

_Oh my god,_ what did he _do?_

“I’m sorry!” Castiel says again. “When you said—”

“Just do us both a favor shut the hell up,” Dean says, turning his head like he can’t even stand to look at him. “The second your knot goes down, you’re outta here on your ass, buddy, and not only are you never gonna be allowed back in here, but I’m gonna file a police report to make sure you’re not getting within 100 feet of me for the rest of my fucking life.”

Castiel feels physically ill at the very idea of never seeing his mate again. He knows now that Dean must have been asking for something entirely different than what Castiel thought he was asking for when Dean repeatedly said, “Do it,” but biologically, Dean is still his mate.

“But—but the rejection, the pain—”

“Do you seriously think I give a flying fuck about the pain you’ll feel from your ‘mate’ not completing the bond? That’s the price you pay when you brand somebody, Castiel!” 

Castiel cringes as he hears the word he never in a million years thought he’d have applied to him, and pain unlike anything he’s ever known lances through him.

He _branded_ Dean. 

The most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, the single most enticing scent he’s ever smelled, and the only male omega he’s likely to meet. He feels shame bloom and seep throughout his chest, stealing the ability to make words, to fight back the tears gathering in his eyes, and to even attempt to regulate his scent. 

He’s never been more disgusted with himself in his entire life. He deserves the pain he knows will wrack him to the core for the next who knows how long, he deserves to be kicked out of Patience for life, to have a police report filed on him, and he even deserves the restraining order because _clearly_ he’s unable to restrain himself.

His voice is nothing more than a quiet croak, but he forces himself to speak again anyway. “From the bottom of my heart, Dean, I am truly, truly sorry. The l-least I can do is offer to pay your wages while you wait for your body to r-reject the brand.”

Dean snorts a bitter laugh. “I don’t need your fucking money, dude. I probably make more in a day than you do in a week. So take that misogynistic, sexist, alpha bullshit and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Finally coming to the conclusion that there is nothing he can say or do that will make Dean hate him any less, he concentrates on holding his upper body as far away from Dean’s as humanly possible while they’re still tied. Thanks to whatever it was that he was injected with, they don’t have to wait long. It’s only a few more minutes of painfully awkward silence before his knot goes down enough that he can pull out, and he’s not even up on his knees before he’s grabbed by the beta guards and forced to his feet.

He doesn’t resist at all when he’s yanked away to the far side of the room, but he can’t take his eyes off of Dean when he stands up, throws on a robe, and holds what looks like a wet cloth to his bleeding mating gland. Like Dean can feel his eyes on him, he sends Castiel one final scathing look over his shoulder as he stalks out of the room and out of Castiel’s life for good.


	2. Chapter 2

For Castiel, “his mate” rejecting him is nothing more than a small inconvenience the first day. It’s almost like an itch that he can’t scratch and refuses to go away. He’s uncomfortable and in a sour mood, but it’s a Saturday, so he spends it in his most comfortable sweats and doesn’t even bother leaving the house.

On Sunday, he feels a little unwell. The itch from yesterday is still there, but it’s burning beneath his skin now, so persistent that he can’t stop thinking about it no matter what he does, and he _has_ to leave the house to try to save his sanity. Of course, shopping leads to being surrounded by the largest, most consistent group of stupid people he’s seen outside of a Trump rally, which doesn’t help in the least. He’s not only miserable by the time he goes to bed Sunday night, he’s downright cantankerous. 

He wakes up Monday morning with aches and pains shooting through him from head-to-toe. He calls in sick for the first time in more than five years and spends his day swallowing down painkiller after painkiller to try to get him through one hour at a time. 

That lasts for three days. 

It’s almost like a rut but without the sexual aspect to it. He’s pining for something—for his mate—and without him, there’s no rest. There’s not a moment of comfort, a moment of peace, or even a hint of anything to help him believe this is ever going to get any better. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep, and he can’t concentrate on anything to take his mind off of any of it. He’s surviving on granola bars and a case of water that was under his bed to prepare for his next rut. He doesn’t taste a single bite he takes and yet every one of them turns his stomach, and he’s so incredibly tired of fighting so hard just to _live,_ he wonders multiple times if it’s even worth it.

Each day drags on longer and more painful than the last. On Thursday night, he finally sleeps through the night for the first time since Saturday. He wakes up sore and aching, but absolutely _ravenous._ He eats his way through pretty much everything in the house, then showers for the first time in days and feels almost human for the first time since the weekend.

The one thing he can’t shake is the sense of loss he feels. It’s akin to grief, and it’s confusing since in his logical mind, he understands that he doesn’t even know Dean and it would be impossible to miss somebody he doesn’t know. But at the same time, his inner alpha is convinced his mate has rejected him and he’s lost his other half, his reason for living and breathing, for good. He tries to keep his windows open, but even still, the stench of rejected alpha clings to everything in his house, which only makes him more miserable.

Anytime he so much as thinks about Dean, pain cuts into him like a knife, so sharp and so deep that it takes his breath away and makes tears spring to his eyes. So he does the only thing he can possibly do in order to survive and tries to shut the beautiful man and the biggest mistake he’s ever made out of his mind completely. That’s easier said than done, and he winds up getting knocked off of his feet by pain several times a day, but by the time a week has gone by, it’s bearable enough most of the time that he’s able to go back to work. Three weeks go by, and the only things that remain are his guilt, the pining he’s still unable to shake without consciously trying to, and his hope that Dean is faring much better than he is.

Which might explain the shock he feels when he goes to the door to answer a knock and finds Dean standing on his doorstep. 

This is it. This is how he dies. As naked as the day he was born, leaking more slick than he ever has before, with the thickest fake knot he owns shoved so far up his ass he wouldn’t be surprised if it came out his nostril, somehow _still_ not providing even an inkling of relief. 

It’s been four days. He went into heat early the day after that alpha knothead bit him, and it’s been the hardest, most intense, most painful heat he’s ever had. None of his toys are cutting it, he can’t fucking breathe without cursing through the pain, and worst of all, he hasn’t been able to find an alpha to touch him and he’s called _a lot._

_“You’re mated, brotha.”_

_“Darling, I would, you know I would, but even I can’t pop a knot for another alpha’s omega.”_

_“In plain English, it’s just not going to happen, Dean.”_

He even sunk so low that he called a heat service, and still, the guy who showed up took one whiff of him and explained they weren’t allowed to help mated omegas without the signature of the alpha, which was some beaurocratic bullshit he sure as fuck wasn’t expecting. He told the dude he was branded, not _mated,_ and it still didn’t make a difference. 

His heat usually lasts three days and only gets really unbearable on day two, but he’s on day four now and this is the third unbearable day so far. His ass is sore, his dick is chafed, and there’s no hope of relief in the near future. On top of all of that, his fucking biology or hormones or _something_ is all fucked up thinking that he’s mated to the dickwad who bit him, and he _cannot_ stop thinking about the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar and just how good Castiel had filled him up. 

He must have come two dozen times with the alpha’s name on his lips, and every damn time after he comes down from it he feels pissed off all over again. Castiel bit him without his consent, throwing his whole body outta whack so much that he’s getting off to thoughts of the guy who branded him without his permission. Logically, he he knows that sex with Castiel had been some of the best he’s ever had (and _that_ is saying something) but he hates admitting it even to himself after what that knothead did to him. 

He’s torn away from his thoughts by a knock on the door. 

“What?” he grunts. 

“It’s me,” Sam says, needlessly as far as Dean’s concerned. Nobody else has a key to his condo. “You doing any better?”

“Do I smell any better?” Dean asks rhetorically. 

A short silence, and then, “Not really.”

“Leave me the fuck alone then.”

He can actually hear his brother’s annoyed huff through the door. “This isn’t normal, Dean! You seem to be in a lot of pain. I think... I think we should call a doctor.”

“I don’t need a damn doctor for my heat,” Dean grumbles. He just needs an alpha. “I’m fine.”

“If it’s not any better by tonight I’m calling Charlie to see who she recommends,” Sam threatens. 

His jaw clenches when another wave of cramps hits him, but he still forces out, “Good luck getting through the door.”

“Whatever, Dean. Eat something.”

It takes a couple of hours, but he is eventually able to choke down the (now cold) spaghetti that Sam left at the door. He does it more because he knows Sam will be on his case if he doesn’t than because he wants to, but knowing that he actually put some food in his body is one less thing to worry about anyway. 

Thankfully, there’s a noticeable increase in the time between the waves of heat near the end of the fifth day, but it’s another two full days before he’s able to sleep uninterrupted through the night. It’s not even his sex drive that keeps him awake, it’s the cramping. It’s fucking killing him. That makes a full, solid week in heat for the first time in his life, and as he takes the next few days to rest and recuperate from it, all he can do is hope that isn’t the new normal. 

It isn’t until he gets dressed for the first time in days that he notices the bite over his mating gland still hasn’t faded. _What the fuck?_ Because he didn’t bite Castiel back, this is an incomplete bond, and it’s not supposed to last. It’s the only true defense they have against stupid knothead alphas trying to claim omegas against their will, so why isn’t it working for him? He’s sure he read it only took an average of seven days for an unreciprocated claim to fade, and either his eyes are playing tricks on him or his brand hasn’t faded _at all._

Knowing the fastest way to research this is to have his bestie do it for him, he grabs his cell phone and dials Patience. 

“Thank you for calling Patience, this is Charlie speaking. How can I help you today?”

“It’s Dean.”

Any and all professionalisms go flying out the window. “Holy frack, you’re alive! Sam said it was hella rough, how’re you doing?”

Dean frowns immediately. He’s not against Charlie and Sam talking, but he’s really careful about keeping what he does at Patience away from Sam. He’s not ashamed of it or anything, but he also doesn’t want to rub it in his little brother’s face. “You talked to Sam?”

“Dude, you dropped off the map after filing a report saying you were branded, what did you think I was gonna do?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” It’s not like he has any other family she could call. “I’m doing okay now. Was a bitch of a week, though.”

“Wait, all week?” Charlie asks, sounding surprised. 

She takes care of his schedule, so she knows his cycle just as well as he does. “Yeah. It was rough.”

“Yikes.”

“Anyway, what do you know about alpha brands?”

“Not a lot. Why? Do you think that’s why your heat was so bad?”

He didn’t until now. “Well, fuck. I was so out of it that I never even thought about that, but that’s probably why, isn’t it?”

“I mean, if I had to guess,” Charlie says. “Yeah.”

He’ll add that to the long mental list of things he wants to kick Castiel’s ass for. “Mine hasn’t faded.”

A silence stretches for several seconds before Charlie responds, “Like, at all?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Huh,” she comments. “I’ll have to do some research and get back to you. But while I have you, there’s something else we have to talk about.”

“Alright, hit me.”

“You’re calling it a brand, so you still believe it was non-consensual, right?”

Dean snorts a bitter breath. “Obviously. You know I didn’t know that guy from Adam.”

“Right, it was his first time,” she agrees cautiously. “It’s just... you know the protocol after something like this happens is that we interview the other people in the room and watch the security footage.”

There’s another pause. “And?”

“Don’t freak out, but all of the alphas reported that you were asking, erm, your mate to claim you.”

Dean blinks, trying to make sense of that. “They what?”

“All of them. And I watched the video—I had to, to take notes for your file—and there’s clear audio of you asking Castiel to do it.”

“Is this a joke?” Dean asks, his insides cold.

“No,” Charlie says, her voice small but sure. “I’m weirdly serious for me.”

“Charlie, no,” Dean insists, shaking his head. “No fucking way. Why the fuck would I _ask him_ to bite me and then report him for it?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But I do know that Naomi looked over your report, and combined with the statements from the other alphas stating that you asked for it and the audio, she won’t sign off on banning the alpha who branded you from Patience, and she... well, she...”

“Just spit it out, Charlie,” Dean barks.

“She wants you to reconsider filing a police report.”

Dean’s gobsmacked. He’s never been branded before, but he’s been knotted by a few alphas who didn’t wait their turn, and he’s had a couple of them carried right out of the room after they were too rough or spewed some bullshit he wasn’t okay with. So why the hell would Naomi be against this now?

“I was _there,_ Charlie,” Dean says fiercely. “Yeah, I was getting my brains fucked out and he was really good in the sack, but I didn’t want him to bite me.”

“I believe you,” Charlie tells him, and he feels a wave of relief so strong it almost knocks him off of his feet. “But I think you should watch the video.”

“Watch the video of the guy who branded me?” Dean asks, his anger making itself known once again. “God, Charlie, do you have _any idea_ what it feels like to have your body and brain and all of your instincts wanting to curl up on the guy who just tried to take the choice of who I mate with away from me? It was fucking _awful,_ okay? And now you want me to relive it?” he asks, his voice rough with emotion. “Why? What’s the point?”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” she says quietly. “I just... I think there might have been a misunderstanding, is all.”

“There was no misunderstanding,” he says plainly. “I didn’t say ‘bite me’ and so he shouldn’t have bitten me, period.”

“No, you’re right,” she agrees. “You’re absolutely right. You didn’t say the words, and so it never should have happened. You didn’t give your explicit consent.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, relieved now. “Thank you.”

“But Naomi...”

“I’ll make it real easy for her,” Dean says, rage fueling his decision. “If she doesn’t ban him from the club, I quit. I’m not working someplace where my employer won’t have my back when it comes to being _branded_ on their time.”

There’s a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, but when Charlie speaks, he loves her even more for it. “You know we come as a package deal. If you go, I go with you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll do some digging into the branding thing for you and see if I can figure out why yours isn’t fading,” she offers. “Unfortunately, the Patience policy is that you can’t—”

“I can’t work if I have a bite,” Dean says. “Yeah, I know. Couldn’t get a heat service, either. If I ever see that Castiel guy again, I’m gonna kick his ass from here to Timbuktu.”

“Yeah,” Charlie replies, but he notices she doesn’t sound all that convinced. “I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything about the brand, okay? Enjoy your time off. Think of it as a vacation or whatever.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Dean says, considering. “Thanks, Red.”

“Love ya!”

As much as he liked the idea of some time off, it turns out Dean doesn’t do vacation all that well. He needs something to keep busy, or he goes a little nuts. 

Okay, a lot nuts.

The first week isn’t so bad. He fills his time giving his condo a thorough cleaning (the hired help does a good job, but he’s learned along the way that putting his own elbow grease into it just _feels_ different), tuning up his car, bingeing Netflix, and bugging his brother. The second week, though, he barely makes it through Monday without ripping his hair out. The brand Castiel left on him still hasn’t faded, and in fact, it looks like it’s starting to heal instead. Charlie told him she’s coming up blank, and although she tips him off on something else he can do to make some cash while he isn’t working, he feels like he needs to have a conversation with his boss before he decides which direction to go in. 

He goes into work on Tuesday, thinking that he might as well get it over and done with. It’s a strange thing to walk through the front doors of Patience knowing that he’s not about to spend the next few hours hard and leaking, but a sense of calm falls over him once he’s inside. Despite what happened the last time he was here, Patience really has been a safe space for him. He’s not going to let one alpha douchebag change that for him. 

Becky, a perky but efficient beta, is working the front desk, so he gives her a wave and walks down the hall to Naomi’s office. Her door is open, so he leans in the doorway and raps his knuckles on the wall beside him. 

She looks up, and the fake smile she had pasted on her face falls immediately. “Mr. Winchester. I wasn’t expecting you.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I was goin’ a little stir crazy at home so thought I’d swing by to see when you think I can come back?”

She sits up at her desk and asks, “May I see the bite?”

“The brand,” Dean corrects, but approaches enough so that she can get a decent look.

“It seems to be staying,” she comments.

“Yeah. Sorta noticed. I don’t know why, ‘cause I sure as hell didn’t bite him back.”

She makes a tiny little, “Hmm,” in response that immediately puts his back up. “Unfortunately, we can’t allow mated _or_ branded employees to meet with clients. It gives the whole place a bad name, you understand.”

He expected that answer, which is why he came prepared with a solution. “What if I cover it up with makeup?”

“You _are_ one of our most popular workers,” she says, seeming to consider. “May I scent you? To see how you smell?”

Dean sits in the chair across from her desk and exposes his neck. She walks around and bends over just enough so that she can smell him, and he appreciates that she stays an inch away from him instead of pressing her nose directly to his skin.

She backs away with a frown on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but you do smell mated. The alphas will be able to tell, and they won’t enjoy the experience the way we at Patience guarantee for our clients.”

It’s not like he didn’t already know that, but it pisses him off just the same. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t not work forever,” he says.

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t something we’re able to negotiate. Believe me, if I could, I would. I’m sure you’re aware your unique attributes bring a lot of business to Patience.”

 _Unique attributes_ is one hell of a diplomatic way to say he has a dick _and_ his ass slicks, but that’s pretty much par for the course when it comes to Naomi. “Well, I’m glad to hear you know that, because I sorta have a backup plan in mind.”

“A backup plan?” she asks, moving back around her desk to sit behind it. 

“One I’m damn sure that can be very lucrative for us both, but there’s something else I want to discuss before we get into the details.”

“By all means,” she says, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“I want the alpha Castiel, the one who branded me without my permission, banned from this establishment for life.”

Naomi frowns and shakes her head, and before she even speaks, he knows she’s going to turn him down. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Castiel is highly respected in the community and considering the evidence is in his favor, I don’t feel comfortable doing that.”

His hands curl into fists when he hears, _the evidence is in his favor._ “I didn’t ask him to bite me,” Dean says through his teeth. “He didn’t have my explicit consent.”

“That’s not the way it seemed to everybody in the room aside from you.”

“Funny,” he says blandly. “Considering it’s _my_ body and _my_ choice who I mate, you would think the only opinion that matters here is _mine.”_

“I truly do apologize,” she says again.

“Me, too,” Dean says. “For quitting.”

He gets to his feet at the same time her jaw drops. “For what?”

“I quit,” he says again, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t feel comfortable working for somebody who doesn’t take my feelings, and frankly, my personal safety into account. I’m terminating our contract immediately. I want my information removed from the website _today,_ or I go to the local newspaper and drop a little story about the mistreatment of omegas at Patience.”

“Fine. You’re dismissed.”

He licks his lips and bobs his head. “Hey, no hard feelings. I’ll even make sure to say hi to all of your old clients for you when they start coming to me where I’m going next.”

He can see her icy exterior burning with anger, and he’s already halfway out the door throwing the middle finger over his shoulder when he hears the intercom buzz. “I need security to escort Mr. Winchester out of my office. Now.”

Naomi probably doesn’t even know the names of their security, so considering Dean’s been working with these guys for years, all he has to do is put his hands up and say, “I’m goin’, don’t worry.” They follow behind him but they don’t give him any trouble, and he’s able to walk out without incident.

He’s got Charlie on the phone before he crosses the parking lot towards his car.

“So?” she asks hopefully.

“I quit,” he answers. “Gave her the figurative middle finger when I told her I’d steal all of her clients, which I fully intend to do by the way, and then I gave her the _actual_ middle finger when she called security on me.”

“So it’s safe to say you won’t be getting a letter of recommendation?”

Dean snorts a laugh. “I thought that’s what the cameras were for?”

“Very funny.” Except she sounds amused, so he takes it as a win. “To get you set up with your own domain the way you want, the bandwidth you’ll need, plus the quality equipment you want to be able to get a crystal clear picture, you’re looking at a lotta cash, Dean. How padded is your savings account?”

“Uh...” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I know what you make, and it’s a decent pile of cash, but I also know how you live.”

“I was living within my means,” Dean argues.

“But you don’t have anything saved,” Charlie fills in. “So since you’re not working...”

That’s one hell of a question. What’s he supposed to live on while he tries to get his new business up and running? The condo came furnished, so he doesn’t have much of anything to sell. Rent is more than what he has in his account right now, and even with his final pay from Patience, he’s not gonna have enough to pay that and give Sam what he needs for his apartment. If he could crash somewhere else for a few months while he gets back on his feet, he’d have enough for Sam, at least. 

He unlocks his car and climbs in behind the wheel. “Can I crash with you for a couple of months?”

“Dean,” she whines. “I would. You _know_ I would, but my place is the size of a shoebox. There’s only one bedroom, and I love you, but there’s _no way_ I want you slicking on my mattress or my couch for the world to see.”

The engine rolls over, and as he checks the rear-view mirror before he backs out of his spot, his eye catches on the brand in his neck. A memory sparks in his brain. _“The least I can do is offer to pay your wages while you wait for your body to reject the brand.”_ Well, nobody expected it to take as long as it has, but that alpha bastard _did_ offer. Naomi said he was a highly-respected member of society, which in Naomi-speak means the dude is loaded, and Dean sure as fuck isn’t above going to the guy who branded him to help clean up the mess _he made_ in the first place.

“Hey, Charlie? You up for one more act of disobedience before you hand in your resignation?”

He can see her sitting up straighter in his mind’s eye. “Always.”

“I need Castiel’s address. I know where I’m gonna get my money.”

It takes some convincing. Charlie thinks seeing Castiel again will be traumatizing for Dean, but Dean tells her that as much as he’s pissed off about what Castiel did to him, he knows the brand will go away eventually. It wasn’t pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but it also wasn’t something that kept him up at night (other than his heat). He knows he can handle it, and he eventually wears Charlie down enough that she believes him. Still, he can’t go right away. He needs to give some notice to his condo, which they happily take without penalty so that they can hike the cost of rent (he may have had to bat his eyelashes a little, but whatever), he needs Charlie to design his website, and he needs to pack.

All in all, it’s almost six weeks between when Castiel branded him and when he arguably does the dumbest thing he’s ever done in his entire life, and knocks on the door of the man who tried to force him into a mating.

Castiel must be dreaming. This is a dream. There’s absolutely _no way_ Dean is standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag over his shoulder and suitcase on wheels next to him. 

“Hell of a place you’ve got here,” Dean says in lieu of hello. He has a cocky smile on his face—still the most gorgeous face Castiel has ever seen in his life—but there isn’t a trace of warmth in it. 

“Um, t-thank you?” he says, not even attempting to hide his confusion. His first instinct is to invite him inside, but that seems too forward (and stupid, frankly) when he thinks of how they parted ways the last time they saw each other. “Did you need something?”

“What, I can’t just stop in on the guy who branded me?”

Shame swamps him for what must be the millionth time, and his eyes drop to the floor when he finds he no longer has the courage to look Dean in the face. “I can’t imagine why you would want to.”

“So you’re not as dumb as you acted. Good to know,” Dean says scathingly. “Can I come in?”

Castiel’s eyebrows shoot up as he lifts his gaze. “You _want_ to come in?”

“I’m not plannin’ on becoming a lawn ornament.”

Castiel presses his lips together into a hard line, but moves out of the doorway so that Dean can step inside. He has no idea what the protocol should be here, but since Dean wanted to come inside, he figures he might as well be kind and offer him some hospitality. 

“Would you like coffee or tea?”

“You got a beer?” Dean asks.

Once again thrown off by the idea of Dean wanting to have a beer with him, it takes him a second to stop gaping at him before he can reply. “Y-yes.” He closes the door behind Dean, and almost instantly, he catches a faint trace of Dean’s fresh-forest scent. Recognition stops him dead in his tracks, everything within him screaming, _matematematemate,_ and he has to close his eyes and breathe through his mouth before he can think straight enough to continue talking. “Would you like to sit in the kitchen or the living room?”

“Kitchen’s good. Shoes on or off?”

“Off if it’s not a problem.”

He’s still dumbfounded as Dean unlaces and then steps out of his boots, but he leads the way to the right towards the kitchen and gestures for Dean to take a seat at the table. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him as he goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle, and it makes him feel awkward and unsure (not that that’s anything new for him, but he still hates it). He grabs a bottle opener, and although he fumbles slightly, he manages not to knock the bottle over. 

“Would you like a glass?” Castiel offers.

“Seems like the least you could do,” Dean says dryly.

Castiel feels his stomach get tied up in knots from Dean’s words, but he concentrates on not spilling the beer instead of how distressing it is to be in Dean’s presence when Dean obviously hates his guts, but he still doesn’t feel any more steady by the time he serves Dean his beer and takes a seat across from him at the table.

His embarrassment over feeling so unsure in his own home only embarrasses him further, and he can’t make himself lift his gaze to meet Dean’s for anything. Not when he has no idea what Dean’s doing here and how he’s supposed to act or what he’s supposed to say, not when he’s feeling like such a weak alpha, and especially not after what he did to Dean.

“It smells like somebody died in here, man.”

Heat crawls up his neck and spreads over his cheeks. He’s not about to say that he’s been grieving the loss of the mate that he tried to claim without permission, certainly not _to_ Dean of all people, so he just apologizes. “Sorry about that.”

“Guess you haven’t been having a grand ole time since you branded me, huh?” Dean asks.

He _just_ manages not to flinch at the word _brand._ “You could say that,” Castiel answers. “But it isn’t anything I didn’t deserve.”

“You think saying that makes it any better?”

“No,” Castiel answers honestly. “But it doesn’t stop it from being true.”

He can see movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up in time to see Dean take a drink from his beer. Now that he’s looking at him, he can see the way his v-neck forest green t-shirt exposes his mating bite—the _brand,_ he reminds himself—on Dean’s neck.

He thought it would be gone by now, and the sight of it does many things to his insides all at once. He feels pride bloom inside of him, a sense of possession, and relief that Dean _is_ still his mate. And then almost instantly, he’s disgusted with himself all over again. He bit Dean without his permission, and more than a month later, Dean is _still_ suffering by having Castiel’s claim on him when it was something he never wanted in the first place. 

Suddenly, Dean showing up with his bags makes sense. Castiel remembers reading the contract before he stepped foot into the male omega room, and he knows it said no mated workers were allowed at Patience. Dean’s had that mark for more than a month, which means he hasn’t been able to work, and it’s all Castiel’s fault.

“You need money,” he states.

Dean nods as he swallows down his mouthful. “Can’t exactly work with a brand on my neck.”

Now it’s his turn to swallow. “I thought... isn’t it supposed to fade if the bond isn’t complete?”

Dean’s expression is hard. “And yet.”

Castiel pushes a hand through his hair in a nervous habit he’s never been able to break as his mind starts racing. Why hasn’t it faded? Will it fade, or will his mar— _brand_ remain on Dean’s neck... forever? And if it does, what does that make them? He shakes his head as if that will help him clear it, and gets back to the problem at hand.

“How much do you need?”

“I don’t want your money.” Castiel wonders absently how long it will take for him to get used to the cold way Dean speaks to him. Obviously Dean was acting at least somewhat when he saw him at Patience, but his voice then was so warm and inviting that he’s having a hard time reconciling it with the standoffish, gruff reality of it now. “But I can’t work at Patience anymore. Ever. I have something else lined up, but it’s gonna take some time to get it off the ground, and I couldn’t make rent this month since I’ve been outta work for so long.”

Castiel closes his eyes as shame and regret eats away at his insides. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity,” Dean spits at him. 

“Tell me what you want then,” Castiel says, surprising even himself with the sudden rise of his temper. “Why are you here, Dean? What do you want from me?”

Dean places his glass on the table and leans in, his green eyes boring into Castiel’s like he’s _daring him_ to refute what he’s about to say. “I want to move in.”

Castiel couldn’t have been more shocked if Dean just told him he wanted to gift him a million dollars. The hate Dean feels towards him has been made abundantly clear with his closed-off body language, every disdainful look he’s shot his way, and every hard word he’s said, and now he wants to live with him? It doesn’t make a lick of sense.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was making bank at Patience and I’m not about to live a shittier lifestyle just because some douchebag thought with his knot instead of his brain. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not paying the price for it. You are.” When all Castiel can do is blink at him stupidly, Dean seems to take it as a cue to elaborate. “You wanted to mate me so bad?” Dean challenges. “Well congratulations, _alpha,_ you got me. And I ain’t cheap. I’m moving in, and _you’re_ footing the bill.”

Castiel’s mind goes completely blank, and his mouth opens and closes several times before he can so much as make a noise. Dean wants to _live with him?_ “Are you crazy?”

Dean folds his mouth into a shrug. “I kinda like innovative. Cutting-edge. Hell, genius’ll do in a pinch if you’re not feeling particularly wordy.”

Exasperated by all of this, the only thing he can say is, “Dean...”

“What?” Dean asks, as if all of this should make perfect sense to him.

“This is _insane._ I’ve already demonstrated my lack of control when it comes to you once, and living in close quarters with you when you look and smell like that,” Castiel says, gesturing to how he looks like sin personified sitting lazily in his chair, “is only asking for trouble.”

Dean lifts one eyebrow. “Thought you said you weren’t that kind of an alpha?”

Castiel sits up a little straighter, and he meets Dean’s eyes head-on for the first time. “I’m not.”

Dean’s eyes flit away for a second, and he can see Dean’s throat bob as he swallows around nothing right before he looks back at him. “So what’s the problem?” Dean asks. “House like this, you’ve gotta have at least one spare room.”

“I do,” Castiel confirms. “But I don’t want you to live somewhere you’d be uncomfortable. I can give you rent money if you need it, or get you set up in a new apartment somewhere if you’d prefer.”

Dean seems to consider that for a few minutes, and when he speaks again, his voice lacks the hard, cold edge that it’s had since Castiel opened the front door. “I only need somewhere to crash for a couple weeks, then I’ll be able to get my own place. Dealing with all the paperwork and trying to get approved for a new place while I’m unemployed will be a fucking nightmare. Not worth the trouble.” There’s a brief pause, and then Dean adds, “But thanks.”

For a second there, it was almost like Dean didn’t want him to dive knot-first into an active volcano, and he doesn’t know what to do with that anymore than he knows how to handle a pissed off omega who wants to live in his house. 

His hand pushes through his hair again as he nods his head. “There’s two spare bedrooms furnished. I can bring you to them now, if you’d like.”

“Can I finish my beer first?” Dean asks, nodding to the still mostly full glass in front of him. 

“Of course.” Then, because he has the chance and he has to get it off of his chest, he says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you lost your job at Patience. If there’s anything I can do, a phone call I can make, a strongly worded letter perhaps...” Dean’s lips actually twitch at that, and he finishes somewhat lamely, feeling self conscious now... “anything at all, I’ll do it.”

Once again, he gets the impression Dean is sizing him up with the way he looks at him. “Y’know, my friend Charlie is a whiz with computers. Hacker with skills unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Castiel draws his eyebrows together, trying to find the connection between this seemingly random information and what they were talking about before. “She’s the one who found your address for me.”

 _Oh._ “I was wondering,” Castiel says quietly.

“She looked you up, too. Wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be trying to shack up with a guy who was gonna give me a hard time.”

Castiel feels his hackles raise when he thinks about somebody digging into his personal life, and he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it. Surely Dean knows what an invasive breach of privacy that is. “Since you’re here, I assume I passed her test.”

“Castiel Novak, fancy-pants architect that’s never done anything wrong in his life. Not a bad word said about you anywhere online, no crazy exes bad mouthing you, no record, no arrests, not even a speeding ticket in your name.” 

Castiel knows he’s led a very boring life, and he doesn’t need Dean to tell him that, especially not in the mocking, booming tone of voice he’s using. “And?”

“Gotta say, I was surprised.” Of course he was. Castiel is aware that he’s probably some kind of monster in Dean’s eyes. “Charlie said coming to Patience was the first time you’ve used any kind of omega service.”

“And the last,” Castiel replies.

“Why’d you go?” 

His back goes up immediately, feeling far too embarrassed and ashamed to explain that he’s a 30-year-old alpha who’s never been with an omega before he paid for it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I didn’t want to be branded,” Dean points out.

Guilt goes to war with the rise of a temper he didn’t even know he had until today, and he decides to give Dean half of the truth. “I was advised to find a willing omega for medical reasons.”

For a single beat of time, he thinks he sees genuine alarm on Dean’s face before he schools his expression into something much less caring. “You’re not gonna croak on me in the next few weeks, are ya?”

“Not that I know of, much to your disappointment, I’m sure.”

“Nah, I don’t want you to die,” Dean says, surprising him. For the first time since Dean’s been here, he feels a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen _doesn’t_ hate him. “I wouldn’t have anywhere to go if you did.”

Disappointment and rejection slam into him all over again and he feels like an idiot for allowing himself to have hope about this situation even for a second. He should have known it would be something like that. Dean has no other reason to want him alive after what Castiel did to him, and he needs to remember that. “Right,” Castiel says, hoping he doesn’t look as foolishly disappointed as he feels.

“It was a joke, Castiel,” Dean says dryly. “I’m not a total asshole. I don’t want you to die, dude.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“No, really,” Dean insists. “Go through a shit ton of pain, yeah. Lose your job and your swanky house, maybe. But that’s all an eye for an eye kinda stuff, so it seems only fair.”

Concerned, Castiel asks, “Have you been in pain?”

Dean takes a long drink of beer before answering with his voice once again completely devoid of emotion. “The longest and most painful heat of my life right afterwards.”

Castiel gives into the incredible weight of despair bogging him down and leans on the table, putting his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Dean. If I could take it back, go back and undo it, I swear I would. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Sinking your teeth into somebody’s neck is pretty counterproductive then, don’t you think?”

“I’m s—”

“Save it,” Dean interrupts him. “I don’t need to hear you apologize twenty times a day.”

“What do you need then?” Castiel demands. “What can I do, Dean? Is there any way I can ever make up for what I’ve already done?”

“No.” Dean says it quickly, without any hesitation whatsoever, and Castiel feels the single word hit him square in the chest like a physical blow. “You can’t. But letting me stay here so I can bleed you dry is a step in the right direction.”

There’s a ghost of a smile around Dean’s mouth, and if he’s not mistaken, Dean’s green eyes are sparkling with laughter. He has no idea how to keep up with Dean’s apparent mood swings, so he just blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. “My older brother always warned me not to loosen the purse-strings for a pretty omega.”

“Purse-strings?” Dean asks, sounding amused. 

Castiel flushes when he realizes he has to explain that now. “He always called me Cassie, so it was a running joke, as most things are with Gabriel.”

Dean sits up a little straighter as a huge smile spreads on his face so disarmingly gorgeous that Castiel can hardly breathe. “Wait, not Gabriel from Sugar Daddy? Makes the best pie in the city? Yae high, can’t even breathe without cracking jokes?”

“That would be him, yes,” Castiel confirms.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean says, looking at him with something new written all over his face. Amusement, perhaps? He feels like he’s being reassessed in any case, and he’s not sure how to feel about that. “Small world, huh?”

“So it seems,” Castiel says carefully. He doesn’t want to do or say anything else now that there seems to be at least a semblance of peace between them, so he sits in silence and looks down at where his hands are folded on the table. As the minutes tick by, he hears the sound of Dean’s heavy glass scraping the table and the dull thud each time he puts it back down, but neither of them break the silence until Dean’s glass is empty.

“Not much for small talk, are ya?” Dean asks.

“Not even under regular circumstances.”

“Listen,” Dean says, speaking more softly than he has so far. “I was prepared to be a total dick about this. I was gonna leave my shit all over the place, order the most expensive takeout possible, buy up all the pay-per-view shows on TV, and generally just be a massive pain in the ass because I was so pissed about you branding me.” Castiel’s eyes go a little wide at the admission. How on earth would he deal with something like that? “But it ain’t your fault my brand hasn’t faded. It’s your fault it’s there in the first place, but you didn’t know it wouldn’t fuck off like it’s supposed to. Plus, you’re Gabriel’s little brother, and you _are_ doing me a solid by letting me stay here. Since I really do need somewhere to crash and I don’t want it to be more awkward than it has to be, I’ll...” Dean pauses and sighs a little. “I’ll try not to be too much of a dick as long as you promise not to get all _alpha_ on me.”

“I assure you, that won’t be a problem.”

Dean nods once. “Alright. Show me to my room then, Cassie.”

Castiel shoots him a flat look as he pushes his chair out and gets to his feet. “I actually hate when Gabriel calls me that.”

Dean grins unapologetically, making his stomach swoop at the gorgeous sight. “I kinda figured. I call my little brother Sammy and he hates it, too.”

 _So much for not being too much of a dick,_ Castiel thinks, but he doesn’t bother saying it aloud. He’d like to keep the peace for as long as possible, after all. In silence, he goes to grab Dean’s suitcase and duffel bag from where it was left in the front foyer, and leads Dean through the house to the staircase that leads upstairs.

Castiel’s room and office are up here, as well as a bathroom with a washer and dryer inside, and the two spare bedrooms he spoke of. Castiel’s room and office are next to each other, and the two spare rooms are across from them with the bathroom in the middle. He’s not at all surprised when Dean takes the bedroom furthest away from his, but he does warn him about his choice. 

“I understand your choice to be in the room furthest away from my own, but you should probably know I usually spend more time in my office than I do in my bedroom.”

Dean just shakes his head and plunks down on the bed. “I’m good.”

“Alright. Towels and any toiletries you might need are in the bathroom. I have an ensuite so the bathroom will be all yours. You’re free to roam the house at your leisure, anything in the fridge or the pantry is up for grabs, and you can use the pool or gym as well.”

Dean looks up excitedly. “You have a pool?”

“Through the patio doors in the kitchen,” Castiel tells him. “There’s a small hot tub as well if you’d prefer that on chilly nights.”

 _“Awesome,”_ Dean remarks. 

When nothing else occurs to him to add, he says, “I’ll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“You workin’ tomorrow?” Dean asks as he turns to leave.

“Yes. I work from home, though.”

“Okay, well just a heads up, I have some equipment being delivered here tomorrow.”

“Equipment?” Castiel asks.

“Gotta get set up for my new business. Hoping to do some test shots tomorrow.”

Test shots? “Are you a photographer?” Castiel wonders.

“A photographer? No. Didn't I tell you? I’m gonna be a camboy.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wakes up Monday morning with swamp ass and morning wood that’s hard enough to hammer nails. The first breath he consciously takes smells like warm, buttery pastry, and it’s fucked up that he can’t tell if it’s Castiel’s scent or if it’s some kind of food that Castiel is making that’s making him horny, but either way, his dick is entirely on board.

“The dude _had_ to smell like pie,” Dean grumbles to himself, rolling over and wiping the sleep out of his eyes. 

He lies there for a few minutes, waiting for his dick to go down enough that he doesn’t embarrass himself before he even manages to get a cup of coffee. He exhales a long, dramatic sigh at the idea of suffering through morning coffee with the douche who branded him. _Who’s batshit crazy idea was this anyway?_ he thinks wryly. 

Honestly though, last night wasn’t really that bad. Castiel isn’t anything like the alpha he was at Patience. He wasn’t, well, alpha-ish, he wasn’t take-charge, and he sure as hell doesn’t give off _good in the sack_ vibes. If it wasn’t for the fuck-me-six-ways-from-Sunday unmistakable scent, he would think he had the guy’s twin or something. Because Castiel is awkward. He sucks at small talk, has this ridiculous squinty eye thing going on, and the dude sits so straight it’s like he’s got something permanently stuck up his ass. 

But he hadn’t been that bad.

Yeah, it was annoying when he apologized a hundred times, but as much as Dean had planned to come in here with guns blazing, he found out pretty fast it was damn near impossible to stay mad at a guy who looked and smelled like a kicked puppy. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that Castiel was genuinely sorry. Not that it matters if he was. Even if Castiel _is_ sorry, it doesn’t change anything. Dean’s still branded, out of work with no place to go, and it’s still Castiel’s fault.

Thinking about all that is enough to make his boner die, and so he gets out of bed, puts on a fresh pair of boxers, some sweatpants, and an old _Kiss_ t-shirt, and heads down the stairs in search of coffee. There’s nobody in the kitchen, but Castiel’s scent is still strong enough in the air that he knows he has been recently. Sure enough, there’s a hot pot of coffee almost full, so Dean opens a few cupboards in search of a mug. He only has to open a few before he finds them, but sugar is a hell of a lot harder to locate. It can’t be too far though, everybody has sugar in the damn kitchen. 

He’s rifled through all of the cupboards over his head, so he bends over to look in the ones underneath when he finally spies a couple of canisters that look promising. He reaches inside with one hand when all of the sudden there’s a loud _smash_ from behind him. 

It startles him so badly he cracks his head off of the inside of the cupboard hard enough that he sees stars. “Fuck me,” he curses as he straightens up. His hand automatically goes to check his wound for blood as he spins to check out the noise, which is when he sees Castiel standing there in dress pants and button-up shirt. 

He follows his eyes down to where a coffee mug lays shattered on the floor, then back up to Castiel who is positively _glowing_ red, and puts the pieces together easily enough. 

“Really?” he asks dryly. 

“My apologies,” Castiel replies. “I didn’t expect to see you—” 

“Bending over for you again so soon?”

It probably says something about him that he gets a kick out of how Castiel turns so red he’s almost purple, but he’s too busy snickering to care. 

“I was looking for sugar,” Dean explains. “Didn’t mean to give you a show—or a heart attack—first thing in the morning.”

“I’ve been awake for hours.” Dean frowns as he turns back to add a few heaping teaspoons of sugar to his coffee, internally groaning over getting stuck living with a morning person on top of everything else. “I was just coming for a second cup of coffee myself. I wasn’t following you or anything.”

Dean turns just enough to raise a single eyebrow in response to that. Castiel opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then must decide it’s safer not to, because he closes it without a word, leaving them both in an awkward silence.

“This is going swell,” Dean says. 

“Believe me, if I could sink through a hole in the floor, I would.”

Dean chuckles a little at that. “What’s got you so nervous all the time anyway?” 

“Very funny.”

Dean grabs his fixed coffee and heads to the table to take a seat. “For once, I actually wasn’t making a joke.”

Castiel stares at him for a few seconds, like he’s waiting for the punchline. When one doesn’t come, he shakes his head and walks around the broken glass on the floor. 

“What? Come on. We can’t have you breaking mugs every time we have to be in the same room. Just let it out.”

 _“You_ make me nervous.”

“Who, me?” Dean says innocently. It’s a farce, because he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on alphas and people in general, but it’s fun to pull the leg of such a super serious guy. “Ain’t that backwards? I’m the weak little omega and you’re the big bad alpha.”

“I believe you’re taller than I am,” Castiel points out, and now that he’s said it, Dean looks him over from head to foot while Castiel grabs a dustpan and a small hand-held broom. If he is taller than Castiel, it ain’t by much. “I’ve already offended you beyond comprehension, Dean. Forgive me for being a little on-edge about doing it again.” 

“On the bright side, you can’t possibly piss me off any more than you already have,” Dean quips. 

Castiel is frowning when he crouches down to sweep up the glass. Dean wishes there wasn’t, but there’s something oddly fascinating about the way Castiel moves. He gets the feeling that if he wasn’t watching Castiel, he would move confidently and with ease, the same way he did back at Patience. But apparently Dean makes the big bad alpha nervous, and with the nerves comes the red face, the fumbling, and the awkwardness. If Dean wasn’t trying to hold a grudge against the guy, he might find it endearing. 

“Maybe steer clear of this area until I can mop it just in case there’s glass I missed,” Castiel suggests as he empties the dustpan in the trash. “The last thing I need is for you to step on glass while you’re staying here.”

“Ah well, nobody’s gonna be looking at my foot when I start working anyway.”

Even though Castiel is facing the coffee pot now, he can see his ears turn red and it has him grinning nice and wide. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re _trying_ to make me nervous,” Castiel says. 

Dean snorts a laugh. “I wasn’t before, but now you’re just making it too easy.” 

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Most fun I’ve had before a cup of coffee in years,” Dean jokes. 

“In that case, I apologize for having to break this up, but I do have to go back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Dean says. 

Castiel nods somewhat awkwardly, and then Dean has the distinct pleasure of watching him walk away. And man, what a pleasure it is. All broad shoulders, his shirt pulled tight across his muscular back, and a nice round ass that he knows from experience feels every bit as amazing in his hands as it looks in his slacks.

Who the fuck wears slacks to work from home, anyway? And newsflash, Dean, the guy with the great ass is also the alpha who branded you, so get your head on straight.

Jesus. Not even a full twenty-four hours in this guy’s house and he’s already getting pulled into his orbit. He brings his hand up to his neck and rubs over the raised skin where his brand is, reminding himself that anything more than indifference towards Castiel has gotta be brought on by the forced bond and not because Castiel seems to be a half-decent guy. 

With that thought in mind, he pushes Castiel out of his head entirely and instead starts running through his mental list of things to do today. Not much of that can be accomplished until his equipment shows up, he finishes his coffee, has some cereal (Shreddies is his only option. Who _chooses_ to eat Shreddies? His distrust towards Castiel grows.), and goes upstairs to shower and get ready for the day.

He watches Netflix on the TV in his bedroom while he waits for the delivery, and just before lunch, he hears the doorbell and Castiel call out, “Coming!”

His phone lights up with a text message at the same time, but since he knows who it’s from, he doesn’t even bother reading it before he tosses it on the bed and heads down the stairs.

Castiel must have really flown down those stairs because the door is open, Castiel has a box in his hands, and Charlie is breathing him in deep and saying, “No wonder Dean wanted to move in here.”

Castiel is doing that squinty eye thing, and Dean interrupts before he has a chance to say anything back.

“Shut up, Charlie,” Dean says. 

She looks over at him with a grin. “Just saying.”

“I can take the box, Castiel,” Dean tells him. 

“I’m happy to carry it to your room for you.”

“No need. I’ve got it.”

“It’s really no trouble,” Castiel insists. 

Dean crosses his arms and asks, “Are you seriously doing the douchey _alpha_ thing where you think that because I’m an omega I can’t carry my own shit? Do I look weak to you, Castiel?”

As he’s come to expect, Castiel flushes as he hands over the box. “Of course not. You’ve already proven that you’re stronger than most. I was merely trying to be nice. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He can feel Charlie’s eyes on him even if he isn’t looking at her, so to get Charlie and Castiel away from each other as fast as humanly possible, he says, “Don’t sweat it. See ya later,” and heads back up the stairs with Charlie scurrying behind him. 

The second his bedroom door is closed, she rounds on him. “Wow, that's a big bad alpha you have there, Dean.”

“He’s just laying it on thick to try to get off the hook for biting me without my permission. And he’s not my alpha.”

“Technically...”

“Shut up, Charlie,” he says a second time. “You gonna help me set all this shit up or what?”

She flops on his bed on her belly with her feet kicked up behind her. “No, but I will tell you where everything goes.”

An hour later, he’s got a computer, a ring light, an external microphone, a tripod, and a video camera in his room. There are cords everywhere, the light is already making him sweat, and Charlie doesn’t have a long enough Ethernet cable to hook him up to a wired connection, which she assures him is fastest. 

“I’ll go ask Castiel,” Charlie offers, a little too brightly. 

“Oh no you don’t. I’ll go.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Stay here,” he tells her, then heads across the hall before she can argue. 

The door is closed, but he doesn’t have to see Castiel inside to know that he’s there. His warm, pastry scent is wafting under the door, and Dean knows before he even knocks that the small room is going to be saturated in Castiel’s scent. He takes a deep breath as he raises his hand to rap his knuckles on the door. 

“Come in,” Castiel’s low voice responds. 

Dean pushes the door open and instantly gets hit with a wave of Castiel’s scent so strong it nearly buckles his knees. There’s a heavy layer of rejected alpha here, but on top of it, there’s Castiel’s natural scent. Buttery pastries baking in the oven, and if he really concentrates, he can pick out notes of vanilla and sugar, but he can already feel the crotch of his pants getting a little tight so he opens his eyes (when did he close them?) and finds Castiel looking back at him. 

“Did you need something?” Castiel asks. 

His mind’s gone completely blank, though. He knows he came here for a reason, but this room, _Castiel,_ smells so damn good he can’t remember what it is. 

“We need an Ethernet cable,” Charlie says from behind him. Why he ever thought she’d listen for even a second is beyond him. “Mine’s only six feet but we’re gonna need ten to get Dean’s sweet omega ass up on the internet.”

“R-right,” Castiel stutters. “I have some cords in the garage, so I’ll go take a look and be right back.”

“I’ll go with you!” Charlie offers. 

“No, you won’t,” Dean tells her. 

He’s caught off guard when his next breath pulls in a fresh wave of putrid, rejected alpha, and he looks over at Castiel when he gets to his feet slowly. “I realize we got off to a bad start, Dean, but I can assure you, not only do I not go into an alpha rage and brand everybody I meet, I’m also 100% gay. Your friend is entirely safe with me.”

He can only blink at Castiel, surprised that anything he’s done since he’s been here has given Castiel the impression that he thinks Castiel is like that. Maybe he _should_ think that after what Castiel did to him, but he can’t shake the feeling that Castiel isn’t really a bad guy. As much as he would like to hold a grudge against him, he learned a long time ago not to ignore his instincts, and he’s not about to start again now.

“Dude, that ain’t it at all,” he tells Castiel.

“What is it then, Dean?” Charlie asks, batting her eyelashes innocently. 

Because he and Charlie both know he doesn’t want to admit out loud that he just doesn’t want Charlie and Castiel to start talking—about what will inevitably be him—he’s forced to allow it. “Fine, whatever. Go. I’ll wait here.”

“We’ll be right back,” Castiel says. 

For a moment, it looks like Castiel wants to reach out to touch his shoulder or something, but he withdraws his hand as soon as it sneaks out, then he ducks his head and strides out of the room. Charlie bounces her eyebrows at him on her way by and he knows he’s fucked. 

“Hell of a place you’ve got here,” Charlie comments as they walk through the house. 

“Thank you,” Castiel replies. “Lots of hard work went into earning it.”

“I know,” Charlie says brightly, reminding him that she probably knows more about him than he’d like her to. “Dean told you I’m the brains behind him getting here, right?”

“He mentioned that you’re very good with computers and that you ‘looked me up,’ yes.”

“Sorry.” She manages to say it without sounding sorry at all. “I was pretty sure before I started digging, but Dean’s like a brother to me, so I needed to be positive you weren’t gonna spend the next month trying to knot him every time he moved.”

Castiel feels his patience fading. “I’m not like that.”

“I know.” That retort surprises him, and he looks over his shoulder to check her expression to see if she’s being facetious. “I’m Dean’s personal assistant. I was when he was at Patience, too. He wanted to file a police report against you after the whole branding thing, but in order for him to do that, I needed to make notes for the file to get approval from the owner of Patience first. So I watched the video.”

“You... watched the video... of me and Dean?”

“Yup. So did Naiomi. And because of it and every other alpha in the room saying Dean _asked you_ to bite him when they were questioned, Naomi refused to ban you from the club _or_ file a police report. So Dean quit. That’s why he doesn’t have a job.”

Dean didn’t only lose his job because Castiel branded him, but because he refused to work somewhere that Castiel could come back to. “I never would have gone back there anyway.”

“I figured,” Charlie says. “Dean’s not a bad guy, Castiel. He wasn’t just trying to cause trouble for you or anything. I figure he either doesn’t remember asking you to bite him or he’s pretending not to because he regretted afterwards, but my money’s on option one.”

Castiel walks over to the box of cords he has in the garage and rifles through it, trying not to show just how relieved he is to know that he’s not the only one who misinterpreted Dean’s chanting of, “Do it, do it, do it.” He’s gone over that moment in his head a million times. He still remembers exactly how Dean sounded saying it, and still, he questioned his judgement every time he thought about it. Not that it changes anything now. The fact of the matter is, regardless of what Dean said in the moment, he said afterwards that he didn’t want Castiel to bite him and Dean’s word supersedes everything else. But to know that he didn’t imagine it or didn’t misinterpret it because of the heat of the moment is a huge relief, and he lets that sink in for a minute before he turns back to Charlie with the cord in hand. 

“Will this do?”

“Bingo! Exactly what I needed.”

He nods, folds the box back together, then heads back inside. He makes it through most of the house before he realizes he never answered Charlie’s statement from before, so he stops at the foot of the stairs and says, “Thank you for telling me that I didn’t imagine what happened. It doesn’t change anything because Dean still has a bite on his neck that he doesn’t want and doesn’t seem to be fading, but it’s a relief to know that I didn’t fully lose myself in the moment and imagine something that didn’t actually happen.”

“You didn’t. All of the alphas in the room, Naomi, and me all heard Dean telling you to do it. He used those exact words. ‘Do it, do it, do it.’ He might not have really meant it, or he might’ve felt embarrassed and had regrets after the fact, but he said it. Repeatedly. When your mouth was on his neck. You’re not some alpha knothead, Castiel.”

It’s ridiculous to feel this much relief from somebody he doesn’t even know validating him in this way, but he’s sure it pours off of him in waves nonetheless. “Thank you, Charlie.” She smiles softly, and the two of them head back up the stairs where Dean’s scent gets stronger with every step he takes. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

He closes his office door behind him to keep the worst of it out and takes a deep breath in. It’s just past noon on the first day, and Castiel is already in agony. 

Impossibly, Dean’s fresh scent has somehow managed to spread through the whole house already. He can’t take a breath without inhaling at least a hint of the most tempting omega scent he’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing, and he already feels like he’s going mad. 

He’s typically very mild-mannered, _too_ mild-mannered for an alpha according to his doctor, and he’s already snapped at Dean twice in the last two days. He feels out of sorts. He’s strung too tight with Dean’s scent all around him, and when just looking at the beautiful man makes him want to do unspeakable things to him, he can hardly keep the blush off of his face. Even now his cheeks feel too warm, and there’s barely even a hint of Dean’s scent in the air in his office. 

He needs to get a grip. 

He rolls up his shirt sleeves and wakes his computer up, knowing that the one thing that’s been known to distract him when he needs it the most is work. As usual, he completely loses himself in his current project. Whether it’s a remodel or designing a whole new building from the ground up, Castiel loves his job. He loves helping people make the most of the space they have, he loves seeing their faces light up when he nails an idea exactly, and he loves the simplicity and exact nature of math. Numbers have never been as complicated for him as people are, and when it became clear that he was much better at dealing with one than the other, he kind of gave up on the people part. 

His few and far-between “relationships” and sexual encounters were entirely initiated _and_ brought to an end by the other party. His brother likes to call him a loner, but the truth is, he’s never been able to talk to people the way Gabriel has, and so he learned to enjoy his solitude instead. 

He likes living alone, and he likes not having anybody to answer to. He can work all day if he wants to, eat whatever and whenever he wants, keep his house clean without having to tidy up after anybody else, and he can spend his free time however it appeals to him. Whether it’s losing himself in a good book, using the gym, going for a swim, or indulging in guilty pleasures like television and gaming, he can do it all without having to worry he’s neglecting a partner. 

He’s on a roll with the project he’s working on now, and because he doesn’t have anybody to worry about but himself, he likely would have worked all the way through the afternoon without so much as a bathroom break, but he gets interrupted. 

He hears something from across the hall. 

It isn’t until that moment that he realizes the chatter coming from Dean’s room had stopped some time ago. He assumes that means Charlie left, but he stands and looks out the window to check that her car is gone from where she parked it in front of the house. It is, which means Dean’s either talking to himself or calling for Castiel. 

Now that he’s standing, it becomes obvious that his back is all sweaty, and he makes a mental note to turn up the air conditioning after he checks in on Dean. 

But that thought, along with every other thought in his brain, goes flying out the window the second he opens the door to the unmistakable scent of aroused omega. Not just _any_ omega, but _aroused Dean,_ with that sinful scent of burning wood that Castiel recognizes so much easier than he wishes he did. Without any intention whatsoever on his part, the scent inspires a series of flashes of Dean at Patience: Dean on his knees with a thick cock stretching those luscious lips of his, the sight of four fingers moving in and out of his slick hole effortlessly, and the all-encompassing sensation of wet heat surrounding him as he sheathed himself inside of Dean for the first time. 

The memory causes heat to flash over his skin from head-to-toe, and although it’s the last thing he wants right now, he can feel his cock growing heavier as lust races through him like an electric current. He doesn’t know what Dean is doing behind his closed bedroom door, but he does know that whatever it is has Dean turned on enough that his scent is burning with it, which in turn is likely to have Castiel’s scent getting sweeter. 

Not wanting Dean to know that he hasn’t even made it through a full day without being the overly sexual kind of alpha Dean likely already thinks he is, Castiel darts down the hallway and into his bedroom where he closes the door and locks it behind him. He grabs a scent neutralizer spray he only ever uses after his rut and sprays the room. The first breath of air he takes in _without_ Dean’s scent brings clarity back to him along with a deep-rooted shame when he looks down and sees the way his erection is almost at full-mast. Just from a whiff of Dean’s scent?

For Pete’s sake, this is almost as bad as when he walked into the kitchen this morning and caught Dean bending over with his thin pajama pants clinging to his curvaceous omega ass like a second skin. God, what a fool he made of himself then. And that’s not even taking into account last night when Dean casually announced that he’s going to be stripping naked and pleasuring himself for paying customers on the internet _in his house_ and Castiel had been unable to form a single word for so long that Dean had asked him if he was having a stroke.

Oh god— _Camboy_. Is that what Dean is doing now? Is he testing out the new equipment Charlie set up for him? Is he touching himself and broadcasting it onto the internet for the whole world to see? 

He collapses with a groan onto his bed, somehow impossibly aroused and fuming with rage at the same time. He doesn’t know _what_ is going on with him lately, but he’s quick-tempered and hornier than he’s ever been outside of his rut, and he has _got_ to get himself under control before he chases Dean right out of his house—literally or figuratively.

He stays on his bed practicing deep breathing exercises he learned from back when he used to do yoga, and once he’s gotten himself under control, his next biggest obstacle to tackle is his hunger. He was too distracted by Dean’s presence this morning to think to take anything out for dinner, so he’s going to have to cook something from frozen or order in, and he’s _starving._ Probably because he skipped lunch.

Pizza sounds pretty good. It’s cheap, everybody likes it, and he can eat until he gets full. Maybe take a swim later once he’s digested, do some laps and then take a nice long soak in the hot tub, and hopefully that will have him relaxed enough that he isn’t wound so tight. With any luck, he might be able to have a full conversation with Dean without embarrassing himself.

He almost leaps off of his bed when he hears a knock on his door. “Castiel? You in there?”

“Yes,” he replies, pulling himself up to a sitting position. “Is everything okay?”

“Sorta hungry,” Dean admits. “Should I find something to cook, or...?”

Castiel gets up and pulls the door open. Dean stands there, slightly flushed, looking loose and relaxed and smelling freshly washed, like he just had a shower. Yes, his hair is damp. He must have needed to clean up after his online... activities.

“Did you use blockers?” Dean asks suddenly.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Dean’s nostrils are flaring, like he’s trying to pick up a scent in the air. “Blockers. It doesn’t smell like you in here at all anymore.”

“Uhm, no,” Castiel replies. “Spray for the room. Nothing to worry about.” Then, quickly changing the subject, he adds, “I was thinking of ordering pizza. Would that be agreeable?”

“Hell yeah. Extra cheese, no vegetables. And get some cheesy bread.”

“Of course. There’s a place just around the corner, they usually deliver within twenty minutes.”

 _“Perfect,”_ Dean groans. “I’m starving.”

“Must be something in the water. I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You wanna, uh, watch some TV? Have some beer while we wait?”

Castiel’s surprised by the offer, but pleasantly so. “I’d like that. Just let me change out of my work clothes and order the pizza, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Dean’s easy grin is disarming, but thankfully he takes off down the hall before Castiel’s flush can embarrass him _again._ He didn’t do too badly that time, he thinks wryly. He managed to exchange, five, six sentences before he turned into a blubbering idiot? It’s sad that that’s notable progress, but this is his life now, apparently. 

He calls in the order for his pizza and then changes his clothes. His shirt is scratching uncomfortably on his skin, so he unbuttons and tosses that first, almost immediately groaning with relief. God, that had been bothering him a lot more than he realized. He grabs one of his oldest, most-worn college t-shirts from his dresser and shrugs into that, and then goes to switch out his slacks for jeans, but decides last minute to go for sweats instead. 

Already feeling much, much better, he leaves his bedroom to join Dean downstairs. He stops at the thermostat on the way by and turns it down a few degrees, then grabs two beers from the fridge, a glass for Dean, and goes to sit on the far end of the couch Dean is on. He places Dean’s beer and glass on the table in front of him, noting that Dean is watching _Queer Eye,_ and Dean shoots him a fond smile.

“Thanks. Could use one after all that computer talk.”

“Not your idea of a good time?” Castiel questions.

“Hell no. Charlie’s rigged it so that I only have to press two buttons to be able to go live, though, so I guess it was worth it.”

Wanting to stay far, far away from the topic of Dean camming naked for strangers, he latches onto the topic of Charlie instead. “She seemed nice,” Castiel says. When Dean only lifts his eyebrows at that, he amends, “A bit of a whirlwind, but nice.”

Dean chuckles, a low, smooth sound that warms his belly. “You can say that again. She’s basically family, though, no matter how twirly she gets on me.”

“She also said you’re like a brother to her.”

Dean takes a swig from his beer before nodding his head. “She talks a lot, that one.” Castiel doesn’t say anything, not wanting to put himself in an awkward position of having to dance around what Charlie told him earlier about Dean. “I heard what she told you about Patience _._ About how I asked you to bite me, and how you’re not some alpha knothead.”

Alright. Apparently they’re not going to dance around it at all. “I hope you also heard me tell her that it doesn’t matter how it happened in the moment. You’re still out of work because of me and forced into staying with somebody who violated you.”

“I did,” Dean confirms. “And it kinda cemented the gut feeling I had yesterday that you’re not a total douchebag after all.”

“Thank you?” Castiel says tentatively.

“And you’re right. About how it happened not changing anything about now, but the thing is, when I heard Charlie say I told you to _do it_ repeatedly in the video... well, I sorta clued in that I think we had a communication problem.”

“A communication problem,” Castiel repeats questioningly.

Dean looks down at the bottle in his hands, seeming almost… nervous? “Charlie tried to get me to watch the video before but I was too pissed at you to listen to her, and then I—fuck,” he sighs. He’s rubbing the back of his neck when he continues. “I kinda tore her a new one for not taking my word for it when it was _my_ body and she never brought it up again.”

Dean seems so torn, upset even, and Castiel’s first instinct is to comfort him. “Demanding the kind of respect you deserve is not a character fault, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head slightly, still talking to his lap. “I know this is gonna be all kinds of awkward but... I think... I really gotta know, Cas.” Dean lifts his head and hits Castiel with direct eye contact. “Why’d you bite me?”

Castiel feels his heart start racing in his chest, and he’s sure Dean will be able to smell the nerves pouring off of him. “Does it really matter?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice is rougher now but the expression in his eyes is soft. Softer than Dean’s looked at him since he showed up here yesterday. “I think it does.”

“Well, I can see now that it was a miscommunication, as you said,” Castiel starts. He’s embarrassed to admit it, but he confesses, “I suppose I lost my head a little bit.” He swallows hard, trying to keep his mind from providing visuals to go with what he’s about to say. “I—I was sucking on your mating gland, thinking about how never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined anything that smelled or tasted or felt as absolutely _perfect_ as you do—did,” he corrects, blushing. “My instincts were going wild. My inner alpha was getting carried away thinking about biting you, claiming you, making you mine. And I was fighting it, I was in control. I had no intention of ever actually _doing it,_ but my mouth was latched onto your mating gland and you—”

“I said, ‘Do it,’” Dean finishes. He closes his eyes and whispers, “Son of a bitch.”

“I still shouldn’t have,” Castiel insists. “I should have taken a single second and _asked_ if I could bite you, and believe me, I wish more than anything that I could go back and do that. But I can’t, and I’m sorry.”

Dean's quiet for a moment, and although he wants to say something more, he waits to see what has Dean thinking so hard. “I know I’m—it’s part of the job to act like it’s the best sex I’ve ever had every damn time, but I didn’t have to with you,” Dean says quietly. Castiel’s chest puffs up with pride and he can feel satisfaction glowing bright and warm inside of him. “It actually _was_ that good, and I was already on edge because my heat was close, and all I could think about was getting your knot. I could tell you were trying to make it last but I needed it so fucking bad, and I thought egging you on would help like it usually does with alphas. That’s what _I_ meant when I said, ‘Do it.’ I wanted you to knot me.”

Castiel exhales heavily as the truth settles between them. “Honestly, had I been thinking clearly, that would have made much more sense than you asking somebody you didn’t know to bite you.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, also through a sigh. “But I know how fast even the best alphas lose most of their brain power once they start fucking, and that ain’t your fault. You’re literally wired that way when you’re with an omega. I shoulda been more careful with what I was asking for.”

“No,” Castiel disagrees. “What happened is not your fault. I didn’t have explicit consent.”

“But you thought you did.”

“Only because I wasn’t thinking clearly!” he argues, his temper spiking again.

“Well, I guess that makes the both of us then,” Dean says stubbornly.

Because he doesn’t want to fight with Dean, he purposely tries to calm himself down. He makes sure his voice comes out quieter and completely genuine when he says, “I’m still sorry.”

Dean nods, and though it seems to cost him, he replies, “Yeah. Me too. I was a real dick to you.”

“Understandably.”

Dean shifts and folds one leg under his thigh, turning towards him more. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t I tell you why I branded you?”

Dean takes another drink of his beer, and once the bottle is back in the vee of his legs, he says, “I think it’s probably fair to ditch the word _brand_ now that I know where you were comin’ from.”

Stress he didn’t even realize he had been holding onto lifts right off of his shoulders, and he’s left feeling substantially lighter. “Thank you,” he whispers quietly. “I started to explain at one point when we were still tied, but you told me to shut up, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized my reasoning didn’t matter. If you said you didn’t want it, then it wasn’t consensual and that’s all there was to it.”

“I was gonna go to the cops, man.”

His insides twist. “You would have been within your rights to do so.”

“You should’ve said something,” Dean says firmly.

Castiel offers a smile and what he hopes doesn’t come across as an insensitive joke. “Well, should I ever find myself in this position again, I’ll make sure my voice is heard.”

Thankfully, Dean grins. “Something tells me that ain’t gonna happen.”

Considering his alpha still thinks Dean is his mate, he can’t exactly go and have sex with anybody else even if he wanted to—which he doesn’t. That seems like a foolish thing to bring up now that they seem to have come to an understanding though, so he keeps that little tidbit to himself.

The doorbell ringing cuts their conversation short, and Castiel gets up to go answer it. “No way was that twenty minutes,” Dean comments. 

Castiel reaches for his wallet where he leaves it on the kitchen counter and holds it up. “Have you ever heard the saying ‘money talks?’”

He opens the door to get the pizza, and is met by his singularly least favorite person. Even the sight of her has his back up, and the second her musky scent hits his nostrils, he wants to close the door in her face. 

“Hello, Clarence.”

_Meg Masters._

God, he wishes he was the kind of person who had the balls to _actually_ just close the door and leave her on his doorstep with her invasive scent and wandering hands securely shut on the other side. Instead, he breathes through his mouth and says, “Good evening, Meg.”

She deliberately draws in a deep breath and lets it out on a low, sultry moan that makes him feel unclean almost immediately. “Smelling particularly sweet tonight, Clarence. You need a helping hand with that?”

“No thank you, I have two of my own.”

It only takes a split second to hear how _that_ came out, but before he can start to fumble his way through an explanation, he hears Dean’s snort of laughter from behind him. Surprised to hear Dean so close by, he turns to see him walking towards them. 

“What’s the hold up, alpha?” That’s the first time Castiel’s heard Dean call him alpha without disdain since they were together at Patience, and it has a profound effect on him. Almost instantly, arousal spikes, and Dean hums low in his throat as he wraps his arms around Castiel from behind and presses his nose to Castiel’s scent gland. 

Having Dean pressed up against him again feels like heaven. His hands are big, his touch is confident but careful, and this close, the intricacies of his scent are more defined: the fresh rain in the forest and the damp earth so pure, so rejuvenating, so _perfect_ that it fills him up completely, leaving no room for second-guessing the way his body reacts so strongly. He bares his neck instinctively, giving Dean more space to explore, and his heart thuds almost painfully in his chest when he feels Dean’s breath hot on his flesh.

Dean takes advantage of the extra skin, rubbing the flat of his nose along Castiel’s scent gland and causing goosebumps to shoot down his spine. “Smells good, doesn’t he?” Dean asks Meg. His already deep voice seems to get even deeper, and _yes,_ Castiel catches the faintest hint of smokiness in his scent. It makes him feel protective and possessive of this particular scent, and he can smell his own apple cinnamon scent getting stronger as it tries to drown out Dean’s so that Meg doesn’t get to smell him like this.

“Makes me all dewy,” she quips.

“Tell me about it. I think I’ve been slick non-stop since I moved in yesterday, huh, Cas?”

 _Slick._ Oh god, _Dean’s slick._ Glistening on his thighs, along his crack, seeping out of his hole, smelling so hot, so fiery and deliciously smoky that Castiel can imagine himself lapping it up without even having to try.

“Moved in?” Meg repeats.

“You didn’t tell anybody?” Dean asks. Castiel’s too busy trying to make his mind think anything but _matematematematemate_ to answer him now that Dean’s touching him, is scenting him, is starting to smell more and more like burning wood. “I’m Cas’s mate, Dean.”

_Matematematematematemate._

Dean’s hand trails along Castiel’s back like fire as he steps around Castiel to hold his hand out for Meg to shake, and it takes _all_ of his control not to pull Dean back against him. Dean seems to be tilting his head to the side so that she can see the bite Castiel gave him, but instead of looking, she merely lifts her eyebrows and looks at Castiel, leaving Dean’s handshake unreturned. 

“It’s thirty-five dollars, Clarence.”

Castiel opens his wallet blindly and thrusts three twenties at her, then takes the boxes and waves her away when she asks about change. He leans back against the door once he closes it, and he can _feel_ how close he is to losing control. His shoulders are heaving, his skin is tingling, and his cock is hanging heavily between his legs just from a casual touch from Dean.

“Take the pizza.” His voice is like grating metal. “I need a moment.”

“You okay?” Dean checks.

“I will be. Please.”

“Cas, if I overstepped—”

“Dean, _please.”_

His voice comes out low and much too harsh, but finally, Dean takes the pizza. Castiel has to close his eyes, has to close them _tight,_ knowing that if he catches even the slightest glimpse of Dean taking a single step away from him his alpha will take it as an invitation to chase. He stays there for several minutes, waiting until he can feel his heartbeat slow, his muscles loosen, his breathing beginning to even. 

“Is it okay if I have another beer?” Dean’s voice calls out.

“Yes, of course. Help yourself.”

Okay. He’s okay. Well, he’s a little on edge, but he’s regained control. He takes one more calming breath, then walks into the kitchen where he assumes the food will be. But no, one look at the living room shows Dean sitting in front of the TV, pizza boxes on the table along with his feet, a slice of pizza in one hand and a wad of paper towels in another.

Dean must sense him, because he turns to look him over. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry about that.”

“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” Dean says. “Just thought it sounded like you could use a hand getting rid of her.”

“I do appreciate that,” Castiel discloses. “She’s nothing if not persistent.”

“I caught that loud and clear. Hey,” he says suddenly. “Before you sit down, can you crank the heat up a notch? It’s freaking freezing in here.”

Castiel still finds it warm, but he doesn’t want Dean to feel uncomfortable, so he turns the temperature back up and takes his seat next to Dean. “I do own plates, you know.” But he reaches out and lifts the top of the cheesy bread box and digs in. 

“I’m not fancy.”

Castiel huffs a laugh. “Yes, I noticed you’re no longer drinking from a glass.”

“I was being a dick, what can I say? This pizza is amazing, by the way, but you didn’t have to get so much.”

“I’m ravenous,” Castiel admits. “I wanted to eat my fill, but I also wanted to make sure you had enough.”

“Well, thanks.” Dean’s much easier to get along with now that he doesn't seem to be holding a grudge any longer, and Castiel digs into his bread without further comment. The first bite is cheesy, garlicky goodness, and he already knows their meal tonight is going to hit the spot. “Have you seen this before?” Dean asks, nodding to the television.

Castiel looks up to see Skyler on the screen, his orange hair and the fact that he’s the first trans-gender person they had on the show immediately coming back to him. “I’ve seen them all except for the newest season, but this is one of the best.”

They settle in with their food and their beer, and as the time passes, Castiel eats slice after slice of pizza. They’re mid-way through the third episode when Castiel reaches for another slice and finds the box empty.

“Damn,” Dean comments. “I can pack it away, too, but I don’t think I’ve finished a whole pizza since I was sixteen,” he chuckles.

He really ate a whole pizza? That’s definitely unlike him, and he doesn’t even feel overly full the way he really should. “I skipped lunch,” Castiel says, defending himself.

“Hey man, no judgement. I’ve seen your body, remember? No way that’s a normal thing for you.”

“I suppose I am feeling a little off today.”

“You’ve been squirming like you’ve got ants in your pants,” Dean comments. Has he? “But I guess it’s been a pretty crazy twenty-four hours.” Castiel nods his agreement, thinking that when it comes to him, Dean doesn’t even know the half of it. “You know what, I think I’m gonna hit the hay a little early. All the carbs are making me sleepy.”

Castiel checks the clock and sees it's almost ten, so it’s not as if it’s _early._ “Me, too. Although I usually go to bed around now, so it's not that early for me.” 

“Thought your light went out early last night,” Dean says.

Castiel nods. “I was going to try to have a swim after dinner, but it seems like an accident waiting to happen after all that pizza.” He pauses to let out a huge yawn, then continues, “Maybe I’ll start my day off with a swim instead.”

“You go on upstairs. I’ll clean this up since you bought it.”

It seems wrong to leave his guest with the mess, but now that he’s seen the clock and knows it’s his usual bedtime, he really is tired. “Are you sure?” Castiel checks.

“Totally. I’ll see you in the morning, Cas.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Castiel repeats, and without anything else keeping him downstairs, he takes off for his bedroom to get ready for bed. 

Even his softest t-shirt is itching at his neck by the time he’s finished brushing his teeth, and although it’s not something he usually does, he locks the door and strips completely naked before he climbs into bed where he falls asleep almost instantly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** This chapter ends on a cliffhanger!!!

When Dean wakes up Tuesday morning, he’s hard as a rock and he’s slicked through his boxers. This is way worse than yesterday, and without even rolling over, he knows it’s because Castiel’s scent is stronger than it was yesterday, too. Even from across the hall and two doors down, he can smell that sweet cinnamon in the air with every breath, which definitely explains his body’s reaction.

Castiel must be either having one hell of a dream, or maybe he’s jerking off in the shower or something. He’s definitely doing  _ something, _ because there’s no way he’s pumping horny alpha pheromones into the air this strong if he’s just sitting in his office. When he rolls onto his back he sees it’s after ten, though, and after seeing Cas dressed and on his second cup of coffee at this time yesterday, he’s pretty damn sure Castiel won’t be in bed or in the shower this late in the morning.

Dean pulls off his boxers and steps into sweatpants, then takes off in search of coffee. He notices that the light is off in Castiel’s office and that his bedroom door is closed—maybe he is jerking off in there after all—but heads downstairs so he doesn’t interrupt or make his ass leak anymore than it already was when he woke up. This time, there’s no coffee waiting for him. In fact, all the lights are off down here, too, and if he had to guess, he’d say that Cas hasn’t been down here yet. 

Determined, he rummages around until he finds a coffee filter and some coffee, then starts a pot. He puts a couple of slices of bread in the toaster while he waits, and after locating the peanut butter, he slaps some on and mows down. He finishes his first cup, then pours a second and decides to be a nice guy and pours one for Castiel, too.

He knows Castiel didn’t add anything to his coffee yesterday because he didn’t use a spoon, so he brings it up black. He didn’t totally think it all the way through, though, because now that his hands are full of coffee mugs, he doesn’t have a way to knock on the door. He taps his foot against it instead, and when he doesn’t get a response, he calls out, “Castiel? You alive in there?”

He hears a loud  _ thud, _ a curse, and then a strangled-sounding, “I-I’m fine, thank you.”

Cas doesn’t  _ sound _ fine though. His usually low voice is so rough, Dean wonders if he’s maybe come down with a cold overnight. “You sound like hell.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel insists. “Please—privacy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says quickly. Castiel sounds pretty wrecked, so he wants to give him the space he needs, but he also has coffee in his hand.

“I brought you some coffee. You want me to leave it at the door?”

There’s a loud  _ bang _ as what sounds like Castiel’s entire body collides with the door, and Dean’s so startled that he sloshes the coffee over his hand.  _ “Ow,  _ son of a bitch,” he curses, hastily putting Castiel’s coffee down so that he can wipe his burning hand on his pants. 

“Dean?” Castiel asks. He’s obviously much closer to the door now than he was before the bang. “Dean, are you alright?”

“Just spilled coffee on my hand, but I’ll live.”

The door swings open, and Dean’s knees damn near buckle on the spot. Castiel is red-faced and covered in sweat, his hair is fucked six ways from Sunday, and he’s _gloriously_ shirtless. He registers and dismisses all of that in the space of a heartbeat, because the scent of aroused alpha—of aroused _Castiel,_ all sweet and unbelievably tempting—is _so strong_ he can hardly even think as it worms its way into his system. _Oh fuck._ _Fuck,_ Castiel smells _so good._ So fucking good—all cinnamon sugar with the most delicious hint of crisp, tart apple. He can feel his body responding, his heart rate picking up, his palms starting to sweat.

“Let me see your hand.”

He’s not even trying to be a perv when his eyes drop down to take in the sight of Castiel’s alpha cock standing at full attention and tenting his boxers in a truly obscene way that absolutely makes his mouth water, he honestly just can’t help it. His nostrils flare, greedily dragging in more of the sweet scent, and his eyelids flutter closed as it settles low in his belly. Castiel’s scent gets impossibly stronger, and Castiel must have taken a step towards him because Dean can _feel_ the heat radiating off of his body, beckoning Dean closer, coaxing him to tuck up against Castiel’s warmth and press against every inch of his golden skin.

_ “I said, _ let me see your hand.” Castiel’s lower than usual voice cuts through him, and without even thinking about what he’s doing, his eyes snap open and he’s lifting his hand so Castiel can check it out. The second Castiel cradles Dean’s hand in his, sexual chemistry explodes between them, crackling in the air and sending flames of desire up his arm to set fire to his insides. “You need to run cold water on it.”

Dean blinks, wondering how the hell Castiel knows he needs to douse himself in cold water to get his head back on straight. 

“On the burn, Dean. Put cold water on the burn on your hand.”

_ Oh! _

“R-right,” Dean croaks.

He pulls his hand away and drags his foot back a step but Castiel stops him when his hand darts out and grips his elbow. “Wait. Wait for me to close the door first.”

With his brain still muddled from Castiel’s scent and the way his body is reacting to the proximity of the alpha in front of him, he can’t make sense out of that. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to chase you,” Castiel says between clenched teeth.

And just like that, everything clicks.

Castiel making the house so cold yesterday, how he ate a whole fucking pizza, how he needed Dean to give him some space after Dean rubbed himself over his scent gland  _ like an idiot _ .   


“You’re in a rut.”

He must not be too far into it though, because Dean’s standing right in front of him, likely smelling aroused, and Castiel is worried about the burn on Dean’s hand instead of the way his ass cheeks are definitely a little damp. He’s cautioning Dean not to move too fast, and even though they’re touching, Castiel is being gentle. In fact, now that he’s thinking about it, Castiel’s thumb is caressing the bend of his elbow in a soft back-and-forth motion.

“I’m not due for almost another three months,” Castiel says quietly. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I never would have allowed you to move in here if I thought—”   


_ He triggered Castiel’s rut. _

Jesus Christ, Castiel’s bite is on his mating gland, Castiel is in a rut, and Dean’s less than two feet away from him and Castiel is  _ still _ in control. Any doubt he ever had about what kind of person Castiel is goes flying out the window. Castiel is clearly not only a good man, but a good alpha, and for reasons he can’t even explain to himself, the epiphany makes his chest fill with warmth. He has to fight the instinct to turn his head to bare his throat, torn between wanting Castiel to know he feels safe and secure and knowing that all it’s going to take is one wrong move to have more than six feet of muscular alpha in a rut pinning him down to mount him in the hallway.

The first trickle of slick escapes at the thought, and now Castiel’s fingers clench down on his arm.

“Dean.” It’s a warning. There’s no doubt about the tone of Castiel’s voice or the fear sparking in those blue eyes of his. “Dean, stay right here. D-don’t move, okay?”

“Cas...”

“Don’t,” Castiel says sharply. He feels fingernails dig into his skin and he freezes instinctively. “Please. Please don’t let me hurt you again.” Castiel’s eyes are wide, scary wide, like the very idea of what he’s saying is ripping him into a million pieces, and Dean’s heart aches at the sight. “Just... trust me, okay? For five seconds. I’m sorry but I—I  _ need _ to do this. Don’t move.”

He doesn’t so much as blink as Castiel’s hand slides up his arm to cup the back of his neck. The thumb that’s been rubbing his elbow drags over his mating bite in tiny little circles, deliberately scent marking him as  _ Castiel’s. _ It makes his bite burn and his insides feel funny, and he knows he ain’t exactly thinking straight, but he also knows it isn’t  _ bad _ funny. Just different. New. Exciting. Castiel’s eyes flick to his, and unbelievably, a small, pleased smile curves the corners of his pink lips. He releases Dean’s neck, takes a deliberate step backwards, and bends to pick the coffee up from where Dean left it on the floor earlier.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Castiel says quietly.

Dean doesn’t move until the door closes and he can hear the click of the lock on the inside of the room, and only then does he let out the breath he’d been holding. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here, but he knows the omega side of him feels compelled to help Cas out. But does Castiel want his help? He didn’t want anything else from him, not even when he’s in a rut. Cas hasn't moved away from the door either, though, because Dean can see the shadow of his feet under the door.

“Cas?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel says from the other side of the door, his voice already tighter than it was a second ago. “I shouldn’t have asked you to allow that. You can—you can wash it off or use blockers if you need to.”

Castiel wants him to erase the claim he just put on him? He shakes his head, trying to clear it enough to make that make sense, but all he feels is this weird, sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” he hears himself ask.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Want me to bring you some food?”

“I have granola bars and water,” Castiel replies. “And now the coffee. So thank you, Dean, but I have e-everything I need.”

That sinking feeling increases in his belly, tightening into a ball of unpleasantness he doesn’t like a single bit. “‘kay. Just, uh, yell if you need anything, okay?”

“I will. Thank you. Don’t forget to put water on your hand.”

“Yeah. I’m, uh, on it.”

He feels weirdly reluctant to leave the door, and it isn’t until he lifts his coffee to his mouth for a drink that Castiel’s scent is somewhat replaced with the smell of coffee that he finds the will to do so. He walks away with his nose as close to the mug as he can get it without sloshing it onto his face, and goes straight into the bathroom to put cold water on his hand like Castiel asked.

It actually feels pretty nice, and he cups his hands together to bring them up to his face to cool down his flushed skin, too. 

He’s able to think a little bit more clearly after that, and it seems pretty damn obvious that Cas going into a rut is absolutely, one hundred percent going to fuck their living situation up. If Castiel’s rut is anywhere  _ close to _ as bad as Dean’s heat was, there’s no way the two of them are going to make it through Cas’s rut in the same house without a couple of broken doors, and it’s not like it takes a genius to figure out what’s going to happen after that.

... but would that be such a bad thing if he’s on board?

It’s not like he’s never helped a friend out with a rut before, same way as he’s had his share of alphas help him through a heat. They're not exactly friends yet, but he’s got Castiel’s bite on his neck for god’s sake. Castiel is going to be biologically wired to want to fuck him. 

Not that that seemed to matter when they were standing at the door. 

He shakes off the  _ ridiculous _ feeling of rejection and heads back across the hall to his room with a lukewarm coffee in hand. As he closes his bedroom door behind him, he can catch a faint trace of cinnamon and sugar mixed in with his own out in-the-wilderness scent and has to resist the urge to roll around in his bed to spread it all over his sheets. He’s never been so scent compatible with anybody before, and while he never got the appeal of the whole marking thing and the way couples would constantly nuzzle into one another... well, he sure as shit gets it now. 

He lets his head loll back as he takes what feels like the hundredth deep breath over the last few days. He needs to get his shit together. Being cooped up in a house with an alpha for this long is doing funky things to his head, not to mention his ass, and he needs to take care of that.

_ Take care of it. _

Well, that’s not what he had in mind when he came in here, but it sure as fuck isn’t a bad idea. Cas is locked up in his room, and Dean has a lock on his own door, so with the two locks and the whole hallway between them at the beginning of Cas’s rut, it can’t be all that bad if Dean just... takes the edge off a little. Besides, he’s got a couple of dozen people subscribed to his website after the little peek he put up yesterday, and it’s not like he couldn’t use the cash. The faster he makes enough money to get back on his feet, the faster he’s gonna be able to get out of the petri dish of alpha and omega pheromones feeding off of each other like a dog chasing its own tail.

With his mind made up, he turns on the light and the camera and clicks where Charlie told him to in order to send out a notification that he’s about to go live. Within thirty seconds, he’s got ten people in the queue waiting, and Dean heads over to the dresser/mirror combo to apply the makeup he bought to hide Castiel’s bite for this very reason. 

Just touching it sends another waft of their combined scents into the air, and he thanks the sex gods above for the makeup being  _ unscented _ so he can keep the smell of him and Castiel together in his nose while he fucks himself on a big ole fake knot today. This is the first time he’s done this live, so he’s a little nervous, but the way his cock has already started to fill out with anticipation is more than enough proof that he’s still into it.

He takes his shirt off once his mating mark is covered and checks himself out in the mirror. His face is a little flushed, his eyes are darker than usual, and his hair’s mussed from when he pulled his shirt off. He looks like he’s every bit as horny and eager for something up his ass as he feels, and his confidence grows when he realizes how much the alphas watching are going to enjoy seeing it.

With that thought in mind, he grabs what he’ll need from a duffle bag under his bed and the remote for the camera and leaves it all on the end table, and then climbs onto the mattress. He makes sure he’s in a good position for the camera, and makes himself familiar with the two screens he’s got set up. One is for the chat where the people watching can leave comments so that he can interact with them, and the other one shows him what he looks like in HD so that he can see exactly what the people watching see. Before he gave it a little test run yesterday, he was worried being able to see himself would be too distracting or make him feel awkward or self conscious, but if he’s gonna be totally honest with himself... he sorta  _ liked _ seeing himself.

The reminder of just how hot it was is enough to have him pressing the record button on the camera and ditching the remote again while the ten-second counter ticks down. He licks his lips, rolls his shoulders, and aims his most winning smile at the camera. 

_ Three, two, one.  _

“Thanks for joining me tonight. I’m gonna apologize right off the bat because this is my first live stream, and as much as I wanted to get to know some of you, I’m already so worked up I can tell I’m not gonna last all that long for you guys.”

He glances over at the screen and reads a couple of the messages popping up. There’s a few people asking why he’s so worked up, and he smiles—a little sideways since he has to admit this to what’s likely a chat room full of alphas—before he replies. 

“I’m guessing I know some of you from  _ Patience, _ so I’m sure you know how much I love getting fucked by alphas.” He waits until he sees responses agreeing with him, and he’s pretty sure he can pick out a couple regulars just from their usernames. “Well I’ve got an alpha roommate who just went into a rut. The dude’s already drop-dead gorgeous and I happen to know from personal experience that he fucks like a dream, and now he smells so fucking good I—” Dean pauses and closes his eyes without thinking, just to draw in a deep breath of the scent claim Cas left on his neck. “Every time I get a whiff of it I start to slick.”

Dozens of replies start scrolling his chat, faster than he can read them all, but he gets the gist of them all.

“You wanna see?” Dean asks. “It’ll be easy enough to prove it, believe me.” He puts his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and pushes them down a few inches, just enough to reveal a peek at his hip bones and the stretch of freckled skin between his belly button and his pubic hair. “Just don’t forget to hit that tip button beside the chat box if you like what you see. Nothin’ 's gonna motivate me to strip faster than seeing that number go up.”

He gets one cheeky reply that says  _ >Except for that alpha knocking on your door, _ and Dean grins while he nods his head in agreement. 

“Yeah, you’re right. The alpha might do it.” Despite that, the dollar amount in the top right corner of the screen hops up to twenty-five dollars, and considering there’s thirty-three people in the room watching right now, he figures that’s not so bad. 

Plus, he’s really fucking horny.

He pushes his sweats down his hips and pulls the cuffs over his feet, carefully turning onto his side in the process so that everybody watching can get a glimpse of the dark spot his slick has left behind on his ass. He moves back on the bed so that he’s leaning against the headboard and all the pillows he stacked there, purposely spreading his legs to show off the way his cock is already forming a sizable bulge inside his light blue boxers. 

Just seeing the way he looks on the screen makes his skin heat up and his cock fill out the rest of the way, and it’s not at all for show when he palms himself and lets out a low moan at the friction. It feels so fucking good to have a hand on himself with Cas’s scent in his nose, and add in all of the people watching him touch himself, and yeah, he isn’t going to last long at all. 

He’s already pushing down his boxers and turning over as he tosses a cheeky grin over his shoulder along with, “I’m probably never gonna give away the goods this cheap again, so enjoy it while you can.”

With his boxers off and his body now completely bare, he gets onto his hands and knees, bows his back, spreads his legs, and  _ presents _ for everybody watching. The chat explodes with messages and Dean can see his viewer count has already doubled and the tip jar in the corner is showing $100. He stays in position for a little while, swaying his hips provocatively to make sure nobody misses the way his ass is shiny enough to reflect the light back at the screen, then he reaches back with one hand to pull his cheeks apart. Even his own fingers that close to his hole has him producing more slick, and he curses himself for not having enough hands to stay upright like this, work himself open, and stroke his cock all at the same time. 

Thankfully, he did think a little bit ahead.

“Hope nobody minds, but I really need a nice fat cock to fill me up  _ yesterday. _ I can’t hold out any more.”

He sees a bunch of thumbs-up emojis, or  _ likes,  _ fill the screen, and he’s glad for it because he isn’t exaggerating. He needs this  _ now.  _ He yanks the blanket off of the bed and reaches for the suction-cup knot he put on the nightstand. It’ll stick to the plastic mount he hid at the foot of the bed under the blankets, and just thinking about sinking down on that sucker with everybody watching has him so wet that he can slip his hand between his cheeks to gather enough slick to lube up the dildo for him. 

He looks at the screen through his eyelashes while he closes his hand around the shaft of the toy and strokes it like it’s a lover instead of the hunk of silicone that it really is. 

_ >Do you need prep for that or can your omega ass take it? _

“Depends on the day, on how turned on I am. Today I’m not gonna need any prep. I’m slick and open enough for my body to do what it needs to do to get what it wants, and damn do I wanna ride this toy until the knot pops.”

_ >What are you waiting for? _

_ >Do it! _ _  
_ _  
>Your ass is amazing _

_ >Look how slick he is! _

_ >Fuck, you’re hot omega _

Apparently Dean’s a bit of a slut for praise, because that’s all he can take. He’s damn near leaking slick and he’s barely even touched himself. With his back to the camera, he positions himself to hover over the mount. He catches a glimpse of himself in the camera, noting his thighs look toned and muscular, his hips are curvy and his ass is round but firm-looking. He grins over his shoulder as he grasps the base of the dildo to hold it in place, then slowly lowers himself down until the slick tip is pressed snugly to his hole. 

He rocks slightly, both wanting to feel the incredible anticipation of the blunt head teasing him and wanting everybody to get a chance to see the way his cheeks are split by it, and then rolls his hips for show before he starts to sink down. Without prep, it’s a tight fit, but he’s plenty slick and having control means he can go at the pace he needs to ensure he doesn’t hurt himself. His body is more than ready to go though, and as his chin hits his chest with a wave of pleasure as he starts to take the shaft inside of him inch by inch, he gets another whiff of Castiel’s scent on his skin. 

He’s immediately reminded that Cas’s cock is even bigger than this one, and as he continues to sink down on the thick length as it stretches his cheeks and splits his ass open, he wonders if Cas is still hard and flushed and smelling like heaven in his bedroom. 

The thought has a breathless,  _ “Fuck,” _ spilling from his lips and his eager ass dropping down in a hurry to take the rest of the dildo inside of him. It should be too fast, and there’s a split second when he thinks it is, but as the head nudges his prostate without even trying, the pain is eclipsed by pleasure and he couldn’t bite back the moan that seems to rise up from low in his belly for anything. 

A flurry of movement over his shoulder catches his attention. It turns out to be a flood of messages, which reminds him he’s doing this on camera—is supposed to be putting on a show and completely forgot about the people watching—but thankfully the comments are all positive and already egging him on to start fucking it. 

_ >How does it feel? _

“Jesus, feels incredible,” Dean answers. “It’s been way too long. I miss getting fucked.”

_ >How long has it been? _

The last alpha who fucked him was Cas, and he has to consciously try not to get lost in the memories of how Cas fucked him like a dream, like Dean was such a good omega that Castiel couldn’t help but give it to him hard and fast and so damn  _ alpha. _

“Been more than a month, and I’m used to getting a knot five times a week,” Dean finally answers. 

_ >Can you come on a fake knot untouched? _

“I could come on a fake knot untouched if I was patient enough,” Dean says. “The alpha that smells so good right now fucked me so good I came on his knot.” He pushes himself back even more firmly at the reminder, closing his eyes and grinding down onto the toy, feeling it rub along his insides in all the right places. “But right now I just really need to fucking come.”

_ >Can we persuade you to hold out? $$$ _

“Do you wanna see me come untouched?” After seeing all of the positive replies, he says, “Well, I do wanna be a good omega,” Dean lies. “And I’ll try anything once. So let’s see how it goes. How about the fuller the tip jar gets, the faster I fuck myself? If it stalls out, I’ll fuck my fist so I can get off. You ready?”

He leans forward so that he’s braced himself on his hands with his ass to the camera, and rocks back and forth. He starts nice and slow, only feeling the slightest bit of movement inside of him at first, but the tip jar number grows so quickly that it isn’t long at all before he’s working himself up to a faster, more satisfying rhythm. It’s hard to keep an eye on the screen but every time he looks the number is higher, and in what feels like no time at all, he’s slamming himself back onto the fake cock in his ass, hitting his prostate relentlessly with just enough pressure that a litany of choked-off sounds of pleasure are escaping him after each one. 

Knowing that he has an audience has added an undeniably intense edge to everything, and considering how worked up he was before he even got started, it probably shouldn’t be a shock to feel how quickly his orgasm is building even without a hand on himself, but he’s absolutely, 100% slack-jawed from how sharp the pleasure is. He almost loses himself in the act altogether, but miraculously, he remembers to shoot a cocky grin over his shoulder as he takes the dildo into the hilt and grinds his hips in delicious little circles that light up his insides.

He has to focus hard on the screen to be able to see through the blinding pleasure, but the first thing his eyes catch hits him like a freight train.

_ >You know that alpha in a rut will be able to smell you, right? _

The very idea that Cas is just down the hall smelling how turned on Dean is right now while Cas is in a rut makes him clench down needily, searching for the knot he craves to get over the finish line. Jesus fuck, maybe Cas is as turned on by his scent as Dean is by Castiel’s, and maybe—“Ah! Fuck. Fuck!”—maybe Cas is jerking off to him at the same time Dean’s getting off thinking about Cas. He can remember exactly how good Cas smelled in his room only a little while earlier, and the scent memory brings back flashes of hard muscle and tanned skin and possessive hands squeezing and digging into his flesh.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” Dean rasps, warning the viewers but still thinking about Cas. 

He’s impaling himself on the fake cock hungrily, his movements turning sloppy and desperate as he thinks about how Cas got him to come untouched in minutes, how  _ perfectly _ Cas’s cock filled him up, how fucking hot it was when Cas’s knot started to grow, started to tug on his rim and stretch him out bigger and bigger one thrust at a time. Immediately frustrated with the fake knot in his ass for being unable to inflate bit by bit the way he likes it, the way he’s thinking about Cas doing it, he growls while he sits up to hit the button to make the fake knot pop. Thankfully it takes a couple of seconds, so he’s back on his hands and knees and pushing back into it with anticipation thrumming through his veins like lava when it suddenly happens.

The fake knot inflates, stretching his rim and his insides in an instant, and Dean cries out when he starts working himself on the bigger, fatter, impossibly thick cock nestled inside of him. Drops of sweat are sliding down his spine and over his temples, slick is dripping from his hole and coating his balls, and the whole room smells hot and smoky like a campfire. He doesn’t usually smell himself, but breathing it in now mixed in with the trace of Cas’s sweet scent is fucking  _ bliss. _

It sends arousal racing through him from head-to-toe in a single breath at the same time he feels the knot catch. His body is damn near  _ trained _ to come on a knot like this and knows exactly what it needs to do, and it only takes a pitiful half dozen thrusts with the knot caught and tugging so fucking good on his rim before he reaches the proverbial edge.

His legs shake as he pushes himself up to sit back on his heels, unintentionally shoving the fake knot even deeper inside of him in the process, and he  _ just _ manages to turn halfway towards the camera when his body locks up, he tosses his head back, and his cock kicks as he comes explosively.

He can’t open his eyes with stars going off behind his lids, but he feels hot spurts of thick cum land like fire on his stomach and his chest, and he  _ has to _ get a hand on himself to wring out the rest. He groans loud and unashamed at the friction of his hand, still rolling his hips back onto the toy to milk the fake knot as his cock dribbles additional cum down his shaft and over his fingers. 

He’s breathing hard, covered in slick and cum and sweat, but he opens his eyes to aim a breathless grin at the camera. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

Castiel has died and gone to Heaven.

Or Hell, depending on how he looks at it.

He’s not entirely sure yet.

Because the only thing he can smell is Dean and the smoky scent of his arousal, and whether it’s meant to or not, it helps him feel less alone and makes his alpha content to think his mate is nearby while Castiel comes an incredible three times in less than twenty minutes. 

His knot doesn’t go down without using a toy, but he feels actually satisfied and at least slightly clear-headed for the first time since he woke up, and since Dean is obviously occupied in his bedroom or in the shower  _ (don’t think about Dean in the shower), _ he decides to get up to rummage for food other than the granola bars he has stashed under his bed. He throws on sweatpants even though the sensation of fabric against his still swollen knot is next to torture, and heads down the stairs without so much as glancing in the direction of Dean’s bedroom.

He’d actually thrown himself at his own door trying to get through it when he caught the first whiff of Dean’s scent earlier, so he doesn’t want to take any chances. He’s thinking about what fruit he can bring to his bedroom that’s easy to eat and might be appealing in a rut when he walks into the kitchen, which is when he sees Dean standing there in his boxers and nothing else.

Cooking.

He gets a whiff of Dean’s scent, and immediately, he’s forced to grip the closest wall as he battles the urge to spring forward and bend Dean over the kitchen counter so he can fuck his brains out.  _ Fuck, _ Dean smells like satisfied omega, like slick and cum and mate and  _ like Castiel, _ and a growl rises up in his chest before he can even try to stop it.

Dean spins on his heels, his eyes wide and his cheeks pink, and Castiel squeezes his eyes closed to try to unsee how breathtakingly gorgeous Dean is flushed with either embarrassment or lingering arousal from whatever he was doing down the hall.

“Shit! What’re you  _ doing _ down here!?” Dean exclaims.

_ I live here, _ Castiel thinks. But, “Food,” is what comes out between clenched teeth.

“I told you I’d help you out if you needed something.”  _ Need  _ you, _ omega. _ “I woulda put some clothes on if I thought you were gonna leave your room anytime soon.” There’s a slight pause where neither of them say anything, and then Dean asks, “Are you feeling better?”

“I was,” Castiel answers. Dean’s scent turns sour, and Castiel opens his eyes to see Dean looking concerned. Instinctively, his voice softens in order to soothe his worries. “I’ll be fine, Dean.”

He isn’t sure if Dean believes him or not, but he nods, and the movement draws Castiel’s gaze to Dean’s neck where the distinct lack of a mating bite makes it feel like his heart just fell onto the floor and shattered into a million different pieces.   


“Your—” Dean said not to call it a brand, but he also doesn’t want to call it a mating bite. “The bite on your neck. It’s... it’s gone?”

“Oh,” Dean says, absently rubbing at it. “Nah. It’s still stubbornly holding on, I just cover it up when I go on camera so nobody thinks I’m mated.” Castiel breathes a silent but deep sigh of relief. He knows he has no real claim on Dean since Dean never bit him back, but still, the sight of his mark on Dean’s neck feels right, and even if he can’t see it right now, knowing it’s there and that Dean still smells like him is a comfort. “Alphas are weirdly against getting off with somebody else’s mate.”

Of course they are. Somebody else’s mate would smell all wrong. A mated omega wouldn’t produce as much slick for another alpha, and because there’s almost a zero percent chance of reproducing, an alpha is biologically designed to avoid mated omegas.    


It seems Dean already knows that or doesn’t care, because he changes the subject before Castiel can comment. “I was gonna cook enough for both of us. Thought a big brunch might be nice. I’ve got eggs and breakfast potatoes in the frying pan, and bacon’s in the oven. I was gonna leave a plate outside the door for you.”

Some of the tension in Castiel’s shoulders dissolves and a glowing warmth begins in his chest as he thinks about Dean taking care of him. He knows it’s likely the omega side of Dean wanting to provide for the alpha in a rut, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that Dean is willing to do it. That Dean looks like every alpha’s hardwired fantasy (gorgeous, bare foot, and cooking in the kitchen) likely has a large part to do with how gratifying it is to see this side of him, too.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Castiel manages to say. “Thank you. Would it be alright if I just sat and watched you cook?”

Dean snorts a knowing laugh. “Just when I was starting to think you weren’t a typical alpha.” Castiel doesn’t respond, knowing that the fact that he isn’t trying to knot Dean where he stands is more than enough proof of the alpha he is. “Yeah, you can sit and watch, but don’t be too pervy.”

_ Don’t be too pervy. _ As if Castiel could possibly tear his eyes away from the way Dean’s boxer briefs hug the curves of his hips and ass even if he wanted to. Although, as his gaze travels downwards as Dean takes a step to the side, his bowlegs make one hell of a bid for Castiel’s attention. Honest to god, there isn’t an inch of Dean that isn’t utter perfection as far as Castiel’s concerned, and once his eyes stray, he eagerly takes the chance to confirm that absolutely all of Dean is covered in smattering of freckles that only enhances his boy-like beauty.

_ “Earth to Castiel.” _

Castiel looks up, already caught before he sits himself in the seat. “My apologies,” he mumbles, careful to hold eye contact. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Dean offers a lopsided grin that is  _ leagues _ more endearing than Castiel should be expected to handle in his current state. “Not like it’s anything you haven’t already seen, right?”

The way Dean’s eyes are dancing with amusement tells him he knows exactly how unhelpful that is, and he’s not about to let him off the hook for it. “You’re more of a brat than I thought you’d be considering the circumstances.”

Dean barks a laugh at that and goes back to what he was doing, and just the sound of Dean’s laughter is like sunshine on a cloudy day. The food is starting to cook now, and as every breath he takes smells a little less like Dean and a lot more like fried food, his head begins to get clearer and clearer. “You weren’t paying as close attention as I thought you were at Patience if you didn’t already guess how much I enjoy teasing big, tough alphas.”

“Believe me, I didn’t miss a breath you took while we were in that room,” Castiel assures him. “You were—and remain to this very moment—the most captivating thing I’ve ever seen.” Dean pauses for the briefest of moments, but it’s enough to have Castiel apologizing again. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I’m probably making you uncomfortable. We can talk about something else. Like... work,” Castiel throws out desperately. The second the word is out of his mouth he winces, knowing he’s now painted himself into a corner that forces him to ask about Dean’s  _ camboy _ business. “How’s the traffic been on your new website?”

“I just finished up my first show,” Dean announces, as if Castiel doesn’t already know what he was doing in his room. “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I barely lasted on camera for ten minutes and I brought in a couple hundred bucks through tips alone, so that’s not a bad deal as far as I’m concerned.”

_ Don’t think about what he was doing on camera. Don’t think about what he was doing on camera. Don’t think about what he was doing on camera. _

“You must have had a good turnout then, I’m assuming?”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Not sure how many people tuned in, I’ll have to ask Charlie.”

“You don’t get to see that kind of thing while it’s happening?” Castiel wonders.

“I probably could’ve, but I wasn’t facing the screen.”  _ Don’t think about Dean with his ass to the camera. _ “Splitting my attention between getting myself off and concentrating on the cameras at the same time is gonna take some getting used to. I was too busy thinking about—stuff,” he fumbles, “that I forgot I was supposed to be playing up the audience for tips.”

“Even so, I’m sure there were no complaints from anybody who has eyes.”

Dean bobs his head in agreement. “I didn’t see anybody bitching, that’s for sure.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” As soon as he hears how that sounds, he wants to kick himself and rephrases. “Not physically, although I’m sure that’s part of it—” What’s  _ the matter _ with him? This is catastrophic even for him! “—but what I meant was did you enjoy the work?” His face burns when he realizes that doesn’t sound any better, and his traitorous mind supplies him with visuals of  _ exactly _ how much Dean might have enjoyed whatever he was doing with his ass to the camera. He’s legitimately sweating by the time he manages to explain, “You seemed to like your job at Patience, and I’m just trying to ask if you think you’ll be happy camming, though I’m not doing a very good job of actually getting the words out.”

He knows it was every bit as embarrassing as it felt when Dean doesn’t give him a hard time about any of whatever the hell that was. “It was alright,” Dean answers. “Kinda nice that there’s no schedule for now and I can just go live whenever I’m in the mood.”

Castiel swallows hard at the idea of Dean being  _ in the mood _ after Castiel scent marked him. “It gives you the freedom to work as much or as little as you choose, that’s true.”

“You gonna sign up?” Dean asks.

Castiel blinks for several seconds, using the time to convince himself that there’s no way Dean just asked what he thinks he did. “I beg your pardon?”

“For my website,” Dean continues. He takes a few steps to put some bread into the toaster as he keeps talking. “If you sign up for the mailing list and check the option, you can get notifications whenever I’m going live, and if you pay the amount Charlie set up for the monthly subscription, you get access to exclusive pre-recorded videos of yours truly that only go out to my subscribers.”

Castiel isn’t sure what to say. Dean’s facing away from him, and he can’t get Dean’s scent through all of the food cooking in the kitchen, so he can’t use it or his facial expressions to determine if he’s joking or not. This has to be some sort of test, though, because there’s no way Dean wants Castiel to watch him while he masturbates for the camera from down the hall. There’s absolutely no chance in hell that he could stay in the same house as Dean when he smells so deliciously fiery  _ while _ watching him perform on camera without trying to knot him, and Dean obviously doesn’t want that after the last time.

“I—I think being exposed to your scent while you’re working is more than enough,” he says with a nervous smile. 

Dean doesn’t say anything for what feels like a very long time, but he doesn’t let that stop him from finishing the cooking. Castiel watches with interest when Dean scrapes a healthy amount of eggs and potatoes onto two plates, then when the toast pops, he butters it (using more butter on four slices than Castiel would use on a whole loaf, he’s sure) and adds it to their plates as well. He pulls the bacon out of the oven next and uses tongs to shake the grease off before doling out a heap of bacon for both of them, and then he finally faces Castiel with a smile that no longer reaches his eyes.

“Bon appetit,” Dean says. “Hopefully you like my cooking more than my scent.”

Castiel’s reaction to that comment is entirely genuine and instantaneous.  _ “That’s _ impossible.”

Dean snorts a derisive laugh before he stuffs a piece of bacon in his mouth and talks around it. “Yeah, right.” Castiel can’t even open his mouth to argue before Dean keeps going. “Don’t sweat it, Castiel. Lots of alphas are only into an omega’s scent when they’re in heat or close to it. I know better than to take it personally. I’m not insulted.”

Which is an odd thing to say considering Dean seems  _ incredibly _ insulted. He’d bet a good sum of money that if he could detect Dean’s scent in the air, he would smell rancid with rejection, which is absolutely  _ ludicrous  _ because Castiel could never, ever reject Dean. As much as Dean would obviously like him to believe that he’s unbothered by the idea that Castiel doesn’t like Dean’s particular scent, Dean’s shoulders are held much too rigid for Castiel to believe it. Even if Dean does shovel more and more food into his mouth, Castiel notices that he doesn’t look up from his plate, and now that he’s thinking about it, Dean hasn’t looked at him at all since Dean put the plate down in front of him. 

He must have offended Dean somehow, and because the very idea causes him pain, he immediately does what he can to fix it. 

“I’m quite certain you could literally roll in manure and I’d still think you’re the most delectable thing I’ve ever smelled,” Castiel says frankly. Dean pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth and finally looks at him, a little chagrined but a lot curious if Castiel can read his eyes as well as he thinks he can. “Nothing else comes close. If I said something that made you think otherwise, I apologize, but I assure you it was a misunderstanding.”

“You said you didn’t wanna watch me cam because my scent was more than enough,” Dean points out as his fork makes the rest of the trip to slide between his lips. “Pretty hard to misunderstand  _ that.” _

“More than enough  _ stimulation, _ Dean,” Castiel explains, his face burning from the admission. “The last thing I need when you smell as tempting as you do is one more thing to push me closer to losing control. I’m barely hanging on as it is.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows in clear disbelief, and Castiel literally cannot fathom that Dean can’t sense the way his inner alpha is coiled like a snake, has been  _ barely _ resisting the urge to strike and claim Dean all over again since the second Dean opened the door two days ago. 

“I had to scent mark you to be able to let you walk down the hall,” Castiel reminds him. “I can barely look at you and string enough words together to make a coherent sentence at the same time, and I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you so many times at this point that I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if my face is stuck this color red for the rest of my life. How could you have any doubt how maddeningly attracted I am to you in absolutely every way?”

“You’re in a rut,” Dean says, as if that should explain everything. He must be able to tell by the confusion on Castiel’s face that it doesn’t, because he drops his gaze once more before he continues. “You’re in a rut and you’re in the same room as me and you haven’t even...” He trails off and shakes his head. “Never mind. Just eat your damn food before it gets cold.”

Automatically, Castiel takes a bite of scrambled eggs. They’re cooked perfectly—light and fluffy and not at all runny, and Castiel doesn’t have to exaggerate the quiet  _ mmm _ that he makes while he chews and swallows. It gives him a few seconds to think about what Dean said, too. Castiel asked how Dean could think he isn’t attracted to him and Dean answered by pointing out that Castiel is in a rut and he didn’t even...

What hasn’t he done?   


He’s scent marked Dean.

He growled when he first caught his scent in the kitchen and had to grab onto the wall to keep himself from forcing his way between Dean’s legs. He’s barely been able to look at him without imagining him bent over with Castiel’s cock deep inside of him. He’s made an absolute fool of himself by telling Dean that he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that he’s never smelled anything better. The only thing he  _ hasn’t _ done at this point is tackle Dean to the ground and knot him, and surely—

No. There’s no way Dean _wants_ _him_ to make a move. They’ve come to an understanding of what happened between them at Patience, but even still, Castiel already bit him once during sex when he _wasn’t_ in a rut, it would be absolute insanity for Dean to let him that close to him a second time, especially now!

He works dutifully at finishing his breakfast (everything is just as good as the eggs) while he tries to come up with a way to let Dean know that he’s interested without coming on any stronger than he already has, and hopefully without making him uncomfortable or feel in any way indebted to Castiel for allowing him to stay here. Good God this is complicated. 

He startles when Dean’s chair scrapes across the floor as he stands up. Incredibly, Dean has finished the mountain of food on his plate before Castiel has had the chance to, and Dean’s walking over to the sink to rinse it off now. He knows he has to say something before Dean tries to leave the room, because he can’t not react to the sight of Dean wearing only boxers as he walks away from him.

“Dean?” he says, needing to have the other man looking at him while he says this. Dean doesn’t look overly pleased, but he does turn to face him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I apologize in advance if this is way, way out of line... but please don’t mistake the control I  _ barely _ have a grip on from having you in the same house as me while I’m in a rut as any kind of disinterest on my part.”

For a split second, Dean’s shoulders relax and he changes his stance from having his arms crossed over his chest to curling his fingers around the edge of the counter behind him, and Castiel thinks he’s gotten through to him. But then Dean says, “You don’t gotta placate me, Castiel. It’s fine. I’m a big boy.”

Castiel’s temper flashes hot and so unexpected over Dean not believing him that he doesn’t have a chance to try to beat it down. “Why won’t you listen to what I’m saying?” he bites out.

“Actions speak louder than words,” Dean says. His voice is low and his eyes are hard, and the way he’s standing his ground to an alpha in a rut wearing only boxer shorts is as baffling as it is impressive. 

“Actions? You want  _ actions?” _ Castiel goads him. “Would you like me to tell you how many times I came with your name on my lips so far this morning?” Castiel asks. “Seven.” He sees Dean’s eyes go a little wide, but he can’t stop now. “Maybe you’d like to know I had to get a hand on myself before the door locked between us earlier today. Or perhaps I should mention that I somehow managed to come  _ three times _ in twenty minutes with the scent of my omega’s arousal in the air while you were working. Or—” He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. His erection, which has been hard as a rock since the first moment he caught a whiff of Dean’s satisfied scent, juts out proudly in the thin material of his sweatpants, and he gestures down to it as he speaks. “—maybe a visual might help make it abundantly clear that I have never and never will want to fuck somebody more than I’ve wanted to fuck you senseless every second of every day since the first moment I saw you.”

His shoulders are heaving with his heavy breathing by the time he’s finished speaking, and his temper has brought out an almost violent desire to claim Dean where he stands. Now that his face isn’t so close to the food, he can smell arousal coming off of Dean like waves, so strong that he has to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out for him. He closes his eyes to try to regain control, but that only makes Dean’s scent seem stronger, and he takes a step toward the inviting smoky heat before he can stop himself.

His blood is racing through his veins to fill his cock to unbearably hard, and his heart is thundering in his ears so loudly that the only other thing he can hear is the growl rumbling in his throat. He’s losing control. Every second he stands here with Dean’s bonfire scent clouding his judgement brings him one moment closer to launching himself at Dean to give his omega what his scent continuing to heat up is so clearly asking for whether or not Dean says the words out loud or not.

_ No. _

_ He won’t hurt Dean. _

It takes every ounce of self-awareness he has left, but he makes his foot move back the step he took without meaning to. And then he steps back another one, and another one, and it’s only when he crashes into the chair behind him and nearly sends himself toppling to the floor that he opens his eyes to see Dean’s cheeks have turned pink, his pouty lips are parted from the fast, shallow breaths coming from between them, and  _ oh god, _ his cock has filled out to form an obvious hard line in his boxer briefs.

He turns and stumbles his way up the stairs and to his room with his growl so loud that he doesn’t even hear Dean’s footsteps following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could say I was sorry 😈 
> 
> The good news is, I finished writing this story last night! That means you get updates Mondays and Thursdays from now on! 
> 
> Am I back in your good books yet?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a doozy, so get comfy 🍿

Oh no he doesn’t.

There’s no way _in hell_ Cas is making a damn speech like that about how much he wants him and then leaving him turned on and unsatisfied. If Cas’s alpha wants Dean to help him through his rut, Dean is _more than willing_ to give him a helping hand—or any hole of his choice, really. Cas is good in bed, fucking _hot,_ he smells _amazing,_ and it’s been way too long since Dean got fucked for him to turn his back on what he knows is about to be a damn good lay. 

So he pounds up the stairs after Cas, hot on his heels and barely a step behind him, which turns out to be a good thing, because otherwise, he’s pretty sure he would’ve had to break down the locked door to get to him.

And there’s not a doubt in his mind that he would’ve done it.

He manages to stop the door with his hand as Cas tries to close it, and when Castiel’s eyes go wide and frantic, he knows Cas is so far inside his own head that he had no idea Dean was behind him at all.

“Dean, don’t,” Castiel grates out, his voice as rough as he’s ever heard it.

“I want this,” Dean admits. “I want you.” Cas takes a step back like he’s been burned, but jesus fuck, he smells so goddamn good that Dean follows without a thought. "Do you want me, Cas?"

Castiel nods and _whimpers_ before he seems to regain the ability to make words. “But if I touch you, I won’t be able to stop,” Castiel warns him through clenched teeth. “I don’t know if I can be gentle and I don’t want to hurt you.”

The fact that Castiel is even _thinking_ about not wanting to hurt him is a pretty good indication that Cas probably isn’t going to. He knows it’s still a risk, and he has been with alphas who got a little too rough in the past, but for some reason, his instincts are telling him to trust Cas, so he makes a move he hopes an alpha in Castiel’s state can’t resist.

He erases the little bit of space between them in two big steps, plasters himself against Castiel’s muscular body, and crashes their lips together. There’s barely a fraction of a second to enjoy the sensation of Castiel’s full lips pressed against his before Castiel’s arms are wrapped around him—one on the back of his head and one on the small of his back—and Cas takes complete control. Castiel hauls him against his bare chest, angles Dean’s head the way he wants it and increases the pressure of his lips against Dean’s all in one breath. Castiel’s growl is still rumbling in his chest and Dean’s obviously got some wires crossed because he’s never heard a sexier sound _in his life_ and it has him returning Castiel’s kiss with as much heat as he can muster. 

_God,_ when was the last time he was even kissed? He can’t remember, but he knows for damn sure nobody’s _ever_ kissed him like Castiel is, like Castiel won’t be satisfied until he knows every sound he can drag out of Dean using just his tongue. The unique flavor of Cas along with his sweet scent has Dean’s ass slicking profusely and his head spinning, and when Cas moves his lips, hot and wet down the side of his face, Dean tilts his head back in complete submission, already struggling to catch his breath.

“Can I scent you?” Castiel asks him.

He feels sufficiently smug knowing he was right about Cas not completely losing himself to his rut, because Cas stopping long enough to check that it’s okay to scent him is proof his instincts aren’t leading him wrong. “God yes.”

Any and all coherent thoughts go flying from his brain the first time Cas drags the flat of his nose over his mating bite and moans, loudly and without reservation, before he rubs his face one cheek at a time along Dean’s neck to spread as much of his alpha scent as possible onto Dean’s skin.

Fire and sugar waft into the air, mingling and then combining a little bit more with every second that passes, and now it’s Dean’s turn to groan as that roasted marshmallow scent hits his nostrils and causes more slick to dampen the flesh between his cheeks. Cas must catch a whiff, because one second, Cas is mouthing at his neck and layering his scent onto Dean’s skin, and the next, Cas has him by the hips and is manhandling him until he’s on his stomach and folded over the bed with his ass in the air.

His stomach swoops from the display of strength as his face hits the mattress. He can hear Cas fall to his knees behind him a heartbeat before Dean’s boxers are tugged down, and he spreads his legs in clear invitation when two big hands pull his asscheeks apart to expose his soaked opening. 

“Absolutely flawless,” Castiel declares, already close enough that Dean can feel his breath ghosting over his slick hole. Knowing what’s coming doesn’t reduce the first shock of pleasure at all, and his hands are fisted in the sheets even before he feels the warmth of Castiel’s tongue dragging along the crack of his ass. 

Pleasure hits him like a goddamn bus at the same time Castiel moans like he’s dining at a five-star restaurant, and the next thing he knows, he’s being rimmed to within an inch of his life. Cas dives in like a man starving, licking and sucking and even using his teeth sporadically to work the softening muscle with his mouth. Every now and then Cas pulls away far enough to lick up the slick that’s dripping down his thighs, and every time he starts to catch his breath, Cas plunges in for more. It seems like Cas only has his own pleasure in mind when he shoves his tongue inside of him, circling his insides and moaning deeply when he learns how Dean’s still slightly open from the toy he had inside of him not that long ago, but Dean sure as fuck isn’t complaining. Cas points his tongue and fucks him with it, thrusting and twisting and _slurping_ when Dean gushes slick like a waterfall, all the while making Dean damn near cross eyed from the sweet assault on his tender flesh.

Seemingly satisfied with the extended taste of Dean’s slick, Castiel finally trails his lips up his spine and right back to his neck where Cas seals his lips to the claim he already has on Dean and _sucks._ Slick drips between his legs all over again as Dean tilts his head to the side, allowing Cas to mark him more thoroughly than he’s _ever_ let anybody else, causing half-crazed thoughts like _mine, mate, breed_ to slip into his brain without his permission, and he knows he needs more. 

_“Cas.”_

It’s a plea; they both know it, and it’s all he needs to say to have Cas lifting him onto the bed where he scrambles to get up onto his hands and knees. He would have presented, had every intention of presenting for the alpha who’s already made him feel so damn good even before they fuck, but Cas has him by the hips and is pulling him back and against his fat cock before he can get into position.

He waits for a second, then two, while his whole body trembles with a heady mix of arousal and anticipation. He’s ready, _has been ready_ since they were in the kitchen, and he has no fucking clue how Cas is holding out when he’s in a rut and Dean’s ass is _right there_ but he is _done_ waiting.

“Fuck me!” Dean demands. 

Castiel’s fingers clamp down so hard on his hips it hurts enough to make his jaw drop. His scent must sour a little because Cas loosens his hold and caresses his hips instead, whispering a hoarse, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldnt’ve—”

“Cas, for fuck sakes, I’m fine! Would you just put your dick in me already? _Today?”_

Cas’s growl sneaks up on him this time, but that could be because Cas wraps one strong arm across Dean’s chest and heaves him up so that his cock rides along Dean’s crack. Cas thrusts his hips shallowly with one big hand on Dean’s hip holding him in place so that he can do nothing but whine while Cas rubs the fat head of his alpha cock against his slick hole, so fucking close to where he wants him it’s damn near torture. 

Dean can _smell_ the arousal pumping off of Cas while his lips tease at Dean’s mating bite between asking, “Do you really think I’m going to reward a mouthy omega talking to me like that with the pleasure of my cock?” 

Even though Cas’s voice is low and dangerous and his tone has Dean’s inner omega wanting to submit, that’s not who _Dean_ is. And he’s pretty sure it’s not who Cas is either. So he fights his instincts and takes a chance to turn his head just enough so that he can hit Cas with a cocky smile before he says, “Yeah, I do.”

Amazingly, Cas laughs, low and rumbling and so incredibly sexy Dean is legitimately contemplating whether or not he can move fast enough to tackle Cas and sink down on his cock before Cas stops him. 

“You’re absolutely right. You’re perfect, Dean,” Cas croons, making Dean preen with pride when logically, he should probably be running for the hills after a declaration like that. “I want to give you everything you want, my sweet omega, but I was merely trying to stop long enough to ask if I should wear a condom.”

 _Holy fuck._ He absolutely, 100% would’ve completely forgotten about a condom if Cas didn’t bring it up. He’s not in heat, so a condom isn’t necessary to prevent pregnancy, but that’s not the only issue. He knows Cas was tested before they fucked the last time, but who the hell knows where he’s put his dick since then. 

“Are you still clean?” Dean asks.

“I haven’t touched anybody since you,” Castiel confirms.

It’s dumb as fuck to be pleased with that when they’re not even together, but Cas hums quietly as he drags his nose along his neck once again, and he’s pretty sure he’s radiating happy omega pheromones whether he likes it or not. 

“Me neither.” 

Cas fits a hand to his cheek and turns his head enough so that he can catch his lips in a long, drawn-out, uncoordinated but extremely satisfying kiss, and he wonders if maybe Cas is just as irrationally pleased by the fact that they haven’t slept with anybody since each other as he is. Dean sinks into it anyway, into the taste of his slick on Cas’s tongue and Cas’s body hard against his, and ultimately, how _right_ it feels is what gives him his answer to Cas’s question. 

“I’m good without it if you are,” Dean pants once they’ve broken apart.

He’s sure the words aren’t even all the way out of his mouth before Cas pushes deep inside of him. If Cas didn’t still have one arm slung around his chest, the force of the single, powerful thrust would have forced him down onto his hands, but as it is, all he can do is arch his back and stretch his neck out to rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder behind him as Castiel bottoms out.

It feels _incredible._ He already knew Cas was thick and he literally had a dildo up his ass less than a hour ago, but this, _fuck,_ this is so much better it’s like his cam session didn’t even happen. _Nobody_ has ever been able to fill him up like this. Cas is far from the biggest he’s ever had but there’s no contest when it comes to the way they fit. Cas’s cock occupies every inch of his insides—length, width, and anything in between—and eliminates even the _idea_ of available space inside of him. He feels stuffed to the max in all of the best ways, and judging by Cas’s heavy breathing and the hand that’s back to clamping down like the jaws of life on his hips, he’s gotta be feeling some of the same thing.

“Fuck that’s good,” Dean tells him.

“You feel unbelievable,” Cas says back. “I know it’s crazy but... I...” Dean shifts his weight restlessly from knee to knee and Castiel drops his forehead to rest against Dean’s temple as he curses under his breath. “I missed how it feels with you.”

Dean’s inner omega is doing fucking cartwheels in his chest, but he knows Cas is in a rut with who his body believes is his mate and so of course Cas is gonna be a bit over the top. “I know,” he says anyway, because it’s fucking insanity, but he knows exactly how Cas feels. His voice comes out quiet but rougher than he was expecting it to, so he clears the grit out of it and says, “Just don’t bite me this time.”

Castiel sounds entirely too smug when he says, “Don’t need to, do I?”

Before Dean can come up with a retort to _that,_ Cas rotates his hips in a little circle, intentionally or not rubbing his cockhead right against his prostate, and Dean’s eyes slam closed as he feels the way his body responds. His slick eases the way, his scent gets hotter, smokier, and he can _feel_ his heartbeat pounding under his skin at his pulse point, just begging for the alpha fucking him to claim it again and again. 

The hand on his chest rubs over his chest and he makes an embarrassing little squeak when Cas’s palm brushes his nipple. Cas zeroes in on it like a target, thumbing over it and then rolling the hardened nub between the pads of his fingers while Dean pants hard with his face still pointed towards the ceiling. One hand reaches behind him and finds Cas’s shoulder for leverage and the other grips onto his forearm, but Cas takes the extra weight without breaking the rhythmic tweaking of his nipple and Cas’s alpha strength only makes Dean’s scent burn hotter. 

“When I’m not in a rut, I’m going to take _days_ to find and exploit every single inch of you that makes you squirm on my cock like this,” Cas says into his ear.

The guy has a voice made for sex, and just hearing the ruggedness in it along with the picture he paints with his words has Dean doing just what he said—clenching down on the cock up his ass and pushing his ass back to writhe in Cas’s lap the best that he can with the little bit of space Cas is giving him to move. 

Frustrated with the lack of friction, Dean taunts, “Doesn’t seem like you’re in a rut.” 

Castiel snaps his hips forward, burying his cock nice and deep in a single, ruthless thrust that has Dean’s eyes almost bugging out of his head and his heart _racing_ with excitement. 

“Don’t test me,” Castiel says lowly.

Except that’s exactly what Dean wants to do. He _wants_ Cas to lose control, to fuck him like the animal he knows he has inside, and if he has to coax it out, he’s got no problem with that. He turns his head so that his breath is hot on Castiel’s ear and says, “Fuck me like you mean it, _alpha.”_

Castiel’s growl is the only thing that registers before he hits the mattress. Cas shoves him down so fast he doesn’t have time to catch himself on his hands, and instead, he gets his face pressed into the bed by a big hand between his shoulder blades. Castiel’s cock is half way out and ramming back inside of him in record time, and he’s already pulling out to do it again when Dean’s still reeling with the pleasure from the first one.

Cas’s hips slap hard against Dean’s ass cheeks, his slick making each thrust wet and sloppy, and Cas fucking pounds him like his life depends on it. There doesn’t seem to be a thought for Dean or Dean’s pleasure, it’s pure mindless fucking that just so happens to be hitting him in all the right places. Dean’s making a series of embarrassing sounds he hopes neither of them can remember later, but it’s impossible to care when Cas is _pulverizing_ his prostate like it’s personally offended him somehow.

Cas is entirely gone to his rut, growling and slamming into him over and over, with deep, bone-shaking thrusts that rattle the bed on its frame and push Dean’s face along the fitted sheet. He can’t catch his breath, can’t stop trying to drag in huge lungfuls of the sweetest combination of apple cinnamon he can imagine, can’t help the way his cock is leaking like a tap onto the sheets beneath him and he _still_ wants more.

A rough, _“Dean,”_ comes from behind him, and he answers with a moan that would put any sex worker he knows to shame when Castiel gets one hand on each shoulder and starts rocking Dean’s entire body back to meet each powerful thrust halfway. Firecrackers explode behind his eyelids like the Fourth of July when Castiel _pummels_ into his prostate, and Dean fucking _loses it._ He’s never felt this good in his goddamn life and he literally doesn’t know what to do or how to respond. He’s slamming his hands down on the mattress and clawing at the sheets like an animal, all while unapologetically pushing himself back to take every single inch of Castiel’s thick alpha cock again and again as more pleasure than he’s ever experienced builds to epic proportions he didn’t even know existed until Cas.

He _whimpers_ when he feels the gratifying swell of Castiel’s knot beginning to swell, and if he thought he was lost in a flurry of arousal before that, it’s _nothing_ compared to the all-consuming, overwhelming, possessive need to feel _this knot_ pop inside of him. 

“Give it to me, Cas.” He speaks mostly into the sheets, knowing even when he says it that Cas likely won’t be able to hear him. “Gimme that knot. Need you. Need to feel how big it gets for me.”

“My— _Dean,”_ Castiel groans, twice as low as the last time. Then Dean’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s manhandled again, pushed down until he’s laying almost flat on the mattress, his dick _finally_ getting some friction when Castiel forces his legs further apart than he knew they could go, and grabs his arms. 

Arousal spikes low in his belly when Cas pulls both arms behind his back like he’s about to be handcuffed and then uses pressure on his hands on his lower back to pin Dean to the bed. 

He can’t move. He couldn’t get away if he wanted to, and knowing that he’s entirely at the mercy of an alpha in a rut should scare the shit out of him, but this is _Cas_ and he’s about to go up in flames he’s so hot. He lifts his head and arches his spine so that Cas can fuck him even deeper, calling out like a wounded animal when Cas’s cock fills the space with a pounding thrust. 

Cas picks up the punishing pace he set earlier, fucking him hard and ruthlessly fast as his knot starts to grind into his ass after each thrust. That, combined with Dean’s throbbing cock trapped between his belly and the mattress means he’s way too far gone to do anything but moan his appreciation for the strong, virile alpha fucking him stupid. 

“I’m close,” Cas breathes. “I’m so fucking close to knotting you again,” Cas warns him. “I’m gonna give you my knot and you’re gonna take it so fucking good, like a good omega, like my mouthy, perfect omega.”

“Fuck _yes,”_ Dean agrees mindlessly. He wants to. He wants Cas’s knot, wants Cas to think he’s perfect even when he knows he isn’t. “I want it. Want it so bad, Cas. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Mouthy,” Cas sighs happily, but he slams into him impossibly harder, pushing his knot past his tight hole and tugging it free one thrust at a time until Dean’s stretched and ready. They’re both beyond words, driven to a place where only pleasure, their mixing scents, harsh breaths, and wrecked sounds exist. Dean writhes beneath him, asking wordlessly for what he wants as he drags his leaking cock more purposely along the sheets. Anticipation has him burning hot, his scent flooding the room to warn off any other omegas because he knows he’s seconds away from feeling his alpha’s knot lock inside of him and flooding him with thick alpha cum. 

“Dean,” Castiel grunts. 

_Fuck,_ he can really feel it now. He can feel Cas’s knot swelling, ballooning bigger and bigger every second, starting to really tug on his rim and stimulate his sensitive nerve-endings, and his body’s ready and fucking _eager_ for it. He feels crazy with anticipation, drunk on the scalding scent of alpha arousal, balanced perilously on the edge of a razor blade somewhere between rapture and torture until finally, Cas’s knot mercilessly forces it’s way inside of him completely and _pops._ Everything whites out as he stretches beyond compression and gets _dominated_ by Castiel and his enormous fucking knot exactly the way he’s wanted since he first caught a whiff of Cas in rut. He claws blindly at the sheets and bares his neck in submission as the first spurt of hot cum inside of him sends him reeling, has pressure building low in his stomach and his body locking up.

His ass clamps down on that knot like a vice, and he hears Cas’s choked-off sound of ecstasy and a possessive growl of _“Mine,”_ a split second before there’s a hand in his hair _yanking_ his head back so that Castiel can seal his mouth to his mating gland. 

That’s _it._ After all that build up, his orgasm hits him like a lightning bolt and he’s coming _explosively_ all over the sheets beneath him. Pleasure surges so fucking hot through his insides he feels like his blood is bubbling, his shout gets lodged somewhere in his throat, and he can feel his pulse racing beneath his skin where his neck is bared. He comes again and again, shock waves of acute pleasure reverberating through him from head to toe more fiercely and all-consuming than anything he’s ever felt before. He’s tingling absolutely everywhere, in his fingers and toes, his palms and his feet, and his arms and legs feel shaky and strangely disconnected from his body. He’s oblivious to anything and everything except Castiel’s mouth burning hot on his neck and the continuous flood of Cas’s cum deep inside of him. 

Cas keeps rocking into him, mumbling his name and crazy alpha-in-a-rut shit like, “Mine, mine, my omega,” until his overworked muscles are twitching and trembling when he finally stops what feels like a really long time later, and he buries his face in Dean’s scent gland before he goes completely boneless on top of him. Cas sure as shit isn’t light, but Dean isn’t complaining, either. He feels _amazing._ Fucked out, sated, and _completely_ spent. Cas’s knot is still lodged deep inside of him where it belongs, satisfying his inner omega’s desire to be filled after a good fuck, and the lingering scent of sex and cum and slick combined with the contentedness streaming out of Cas is probably the best thing he’s ever smelled.

Actually, it’s not even _just_ the way Cas smells that’s so good. It’s both of their scents mixed together after Cas scent marked him so many times, and the sweet aroma of roasted marshmallow falling over him and wrapping around him like a blanket is definitely his new idea of heaven. God, he feels good, so far past good he’s basically floating, and he could lie here pinned beneath Cas’s muscular body with Cas nuzzling at his scent gland for _days_ without wanting to move.

“I’m going to roll us over so I don’t squish you when I pass out,” Castiel says quietly.

“Sorta nice,” Dean admits.

Castiel hums happily, but gets one hand under his chest and one around his hips so that he can turn them over onto their sides. They both groan when Cas’s knot moves inside of him in the process, and Cas’s heavy breathing is hot and loud in his ear when it milks another load of alpha cum out of Cas. 

“Jesus,” Cas breathes. “If we move again my knot’s never going to go down.”

“‘s okay,” Dean slurs, feeling incredibly tired himself all of the sudden. “I like that, too.”

Castiel huffs a laugh. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a while. Why don’t you sleep while you can?”

“You’re the one in a rut,” Dean reminds him. “You sleep. You’ll need your energy to fuck me again later.”

“Oh really?” Castiel asks, like he’s surprised Dean wants another round of the best sex he’s ever had.

“Mhmm.”

He should probably say something to stop Cas when Cas’s hand finds his and Cas tangles their fingers together, but he’s mostly sleeping anyway, and it’s not like it hurts anything. The last thing he’s aware of before he drifts off completely is Castiel’s nose pressed to his neck and the comforting scent of buttery pastry in the air.

Castiel wakes up when his knot goes down and everything _in_ Dean comes out with it. It’s not a pleasant feeling in any shape or form, but the scent of his semen mixed with Dean’s slick—well, that’s something else entirely. It soothes him, fills a hole inside of him he didn’t even know was empty until now. He supposes it makes sense, though, seeing as the smell of sex in the air is tangible proof that he’s _finally_ done what an alpha is supposed to do and bedded an omega during his rut.

He’s never been with an omega before Dean and certainly never expected to be lucky enough to go through his rut with one, but even though this can only be the beginning of his rut when historically it’s been the most difficult to handle, he feels like he has a good grip on himself at the moment. That must be because of Dean, too, and it probably has something to do with (regardless how many times Castiel tells himself otherwise) his alpha is absolutely convinced that Dean is his mate.

Dean smells mated. Smells like _mate._ If another alpha scented Dean, he’s sure they’d be able to tell that Dean is _his—_ even though he’s not. Not really, anyway. And he knows that, he just doesn’t want to think about it right now. Not when Dean is sleeping so peacefully in his arms, his fingers still threaded loosely with his own and smelling like Castiel’s personal ambrosia. 

Dean’s scent is literally like a breath of fresh air. A recently rained-on forest full of greens, of pine needles and freshly-turned earth. Just breathing it in makes Castiel feel alive, feel free, feel invigorated. He has no idea what he’s done to earn Dean’s trust or affections or whatever it was that led Dean to follow him up the stairs earlier when he was doing everything in his power to stay away from Dean in order to keep him safe, but whatever it is, he’s grateful for it.

As much as he’s enjoying having his nose so close to Dean’s scent gland, he’s selfish enough that he wishes he could see what Dean looks like lost to a deep sleep. He gets the feeling Dean tries to keep himself guarded most of the time with his feelings close to his chest, and he wonders how different he would look without any of his walls up. Perhaps if he treats him right and continues to earn his trust he’ll find out someday.

Dean shifts suddenly, arching his back and letting out a low groan as he stretches languidly. He seems to have no qualms about his nudity or the fact that he’s putting a good portion of it on display when his ass is still nestled against Castiel’s crotch. Not that he should. As far as Castiel’s concerned, he’s perfection personified, and that’s _before_ Dean bats his eyelashes and aims a fond smile at him. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel’s hand moves before his brain can tell it not to, spanning the length of Dean’s torso and settling onto the curve of his hip where he caresses Dean’s soft, smooth skin. “Hello, Dean.”

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Surprisingly in control.” Dean lifts an eyebrow and glances down at the hand on his hip, which Castiel freezes. “I’m sorry, should I—?” He starts to pull his hand away even though it’s the last thing he wants to do, but Dean interrupts him.

“Nah, I was just buggin’ ya.”

“Oh,” Castiel replies, awkwardly keeping his hand somewhere half-on Dean’s hip and half off of it. It strikes him suddenly that he doesn’t know how to act in this particular circumstance, what he should say, or what’s normal and what isn’t. 

“Wow, you’re really good at pillow talk,” Dean says dryly.

“I suppose that’s probably because I’ve never done this before,” Castiel says.

“You’ve never shared your rut with an omega before?” Dean asks, sounding surprised.

“I’ve never been with another omega.”

Dean’s jaw actually drops. “Shit, really?”

“There aren’t many to begin with, and all of the male omegas I was introduced to before you were all so... small,” he says. “Not my type.”

Dean folds his lips into a shrug. “Probably not the same kind of instincts with a beta, huh?”

“No,” Castiel agrees, “though I haven’t gone through a rut with one of them either. Or an alpha, before you ask,” he adds. “If you haven’t already been able to tell, I don’t socialize much. I prefer to keep to myself.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Dean quips. Castiel purses his lips in annoyance (wouldn’t lying be the kinder thing to do?), and Dean surprises him by laughing and rolling over to face him, then scooching forward so that he can pillow his head on the arm Castiel had under his neck. “Alphas in a rut are usually pretty handsy, scenting and tryin’ to make sure their omegas aren’t gonna take off on ‘em before they’re done with them, I guess.”

Even the idea of Dean being with other alphas causes him to burn with jealousy, which is _ridiculous_ after how they met. “You don’t mind, then?”

“Nah,” Dean answers. “If you’re feelin’ good though, would you mind if I go grab a shower? My ass is like a slip n’ slide, and not in the fun way.”

The thought of Dean leaving his bed does inspire a twinge of discomfort in his chest, but if Dean’s uncomfortable, he’s not going to stop him from cleaning up. “Of course.”

“K, I won’t be long,” Dean says as he unfolds himself from Castiel’s side and gets to his feet. Castiel is watching his ass unapologetically as he walks out of the room, but Dean stops at the door and adds, “Maybe work on a water bottle while I’m gone? Gotta keep your fluid intake steady if you wanna keep filling me up like you did last time.” Then he adds a wink before he disappears down the hall.

_A wink._

Castiel lets a low groan spill into the empty room as he flops back on the bed. Dean _has_ to know what he looks like naked and how enticing he would be walking away, and still, he had to go and wink at him like anybody with a pulse wouldn’t want to chase after him after that. 

What a tease.

Even though he isn’t feeling particularly thirsty, he grabs the water bottle on his end table like Dean suggested and works on drinking it down while he waits for Dean to come back from his shower. As much as he doesn’t enjoy wearing clothes during his rut, he starts to feel weird about lying here naked when he knows Dean will be back shortly, so he grabs a pair of boxers to throw on. While he’s up, he considers changing the sheets since there’s a couple of wet spots on them already, but with Dean gone, the idea of erasing his scent from the room entirely is more than he can stand, so he concentrates on avoiding the mess while he gets back into bed instead. He finishes half of the water bottle before he loses interest completely, and he starts to shift uncomfortably in place.

After a few minutes of being unable to get comfortable, he realizes it has to do with the temperature. His bedroom is much, much too warm. God, how did he stand having Dean pressed against him when it’s like an oven in here? He opens his window and turns his ceiling fan on (he should have done that before, and likely would have if he had been thinking clearly), but even though he can feel the cool air hitting his skin when he lies back down, it doesn’t seem to help at all. His skin just feels too hot, too sweaty, too sensitive—like it’s stretched more tightly than it should be all over his body. 

He suddenly can’t stand sitting on his bed anymore, so he gets up to pace mindlessly, just working off excess energy the best he can while being careful not to overheat any more than he already is. 

He does several laps of his bedroom when he realizes Dean’s been gone a really long time. It definitely doesn’t take this long to shower, which means Dean must be doing something else. They just ate, so he shouldn’t be in the kitchen. It doesn’t make sense that he would just go hang out in the living room without saying anything to him first. Is he in his room? _Why_ would he be in his room instead of in here with Castiel?

Unless Dean’s decided to stay away from him for the rest of his rut. It feels like his stomach drops to the floor at the thought. Did he do something wrong? Did he not satisfy Dean the way he should have? Most of his memories from actually having sex with Dean are a blur. Maybe he was a selfish lover. He knows Dean ejaculated because he can smell it on the sheets, but was that because of him or did Dean have to take care of it himself?

Shit. He probably did. Castiel was so lost in his rut that he didn’t even think about pleasuring Dean, all he could think about was claiming him in every way he could, with his scent, his lips, his hands, his seed, his marks.

_Oh no._

What if he was too rough?

What if he hurt Dean and Dean was too afraid of him to say anything? What if Dean is locked in his room right now calling somebody to come help him keep Castiel away from him while Dean packs, moves out, and leaves him here all by himself all over again?

Fuck. It’s all his fault. He could have been with Dean and showed him how precious, how beautiful, how _perfect_ he is to Castiel in every way. Against all odds, he had the opportunity to prove to Dean that he isn’t the crazy, lust-filled, knothead alpha Dean thought he was after what happened at Patience, and he fucking blew it. He forgot all about _who he is_ and let the rut-filled alpha out, and fucked Dean so fast and so hard he can’t remember anything about the actual experience except for Dean’s scent and the way Dean felt so fucking tight and wet around his cock.

His rut means his hormones are out of whack enough that even those partial memories are starting to get him hard again at the same time he absolutely loathes himself, and he wants to _scream_ in frustration. He wants to lash out, break every fucking thing in the room when he realizes he’s not going to be able to resist touching himself in his rut, and he’s going to end up jerking off all over again thinking about Dean instead of being with him because he’s a terrible fucking failure as an alpha.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” 

Castiel whips his head around to look at the doorway where Dean is standing with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Whatever Dean sees has his eyebrows pinching together and him hurrying into the room, and Castiel is still just so surprised that Dean’s still here and voluntarily walking into his bedroom after everything he’s done to him that he doesn’t even react until Dean’s hands are on his face and guiding it to Dean’s neck.

It takes a solid second for Dean’s scent to hit him, and it seems like the very first breath calms the worst of the beast that’s raging in his chest and wreaking havoc in his head. He takes a deeper breath, inhaling the freshly-showered scent of forest greens on Dean’s skin, picturing his crisp scent like tendrils in the air working their way inside of Castiel where they seek out and soothe the worst of his panic with one breath at a time. 

With the panic slowly ebbing, it makes room for relief, which rushes through him like a good gust of wind on a stormy day. He reacts without thinking, throwing his arms around Dean and pressing his nose directly to his scent gland while he gasps, “You’re still here. You’re still here. You didn’t leave.”

“‘Course I didn’t leave,” Dean says gently. “I told you I was just gonna take a quick shower.”

Castiel’s mind is spinning. This doesn’t make any sense. “But you—you were gone so long—”

Now it seems like _Dean_ is the one who’s having a hard time making sense of this. “I’ve been gone less than ten minutes.”

“No.” That’s impossible. He’s been going out of his mind for _much_ longer than that. “No, you were—”

“Cas.” He says it sharply enough that Cas takes a step back, though he’s loath to do it. “Cas, I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that alpha brain of yours, but I didn’t reject you, okay? Me leaving the room was just to clean up, not to get away from you.”

Castiel swallows hard as he tries to work that through in a brain that really doesn’t want to cooperate right now. “You... want to be with me?”

“I wanna help you through your rut,” Dean answers, which is definitely not the same thing, but close enough that the clarification doesn’t sting. “You smell amazing when you’re in a rut and haven’t freaked yourself out over nothing. Why would I wanna miss that?”

“I thought you left,” Castiel explains. “I thought I disappointed you. That the sex wasn’t satisfying or I was too rough. I _was_ too rough. I know I was,” he adds as he gets a good look at the string of bruises on Dean’s neck. “You’re—god, Dean—I _covered_ you in bruises. All over your neck, and—” His heart stops as he sees the fingerprint bruises on his hips peeking out under his towel. “Your hips! Look at your hips! I was so rough _I put bruises on you—”_

“And I loved every minute of it,” Dean says firmly, effectively shutting him up. “I liked that you fucked me hard.” _Oh God,_ Dean talking like that is going _straight_ to his dick and now is absolutely not the time. “I liked that you were rough. Hell, I goaded you into it,” Dean points out. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cas. That was some of the best sex of my life, just like the last time, and also a big part of the reason I’m willing to do this at all. Because we’re good together. In bed,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

It’s extremely gratifying to hear Dean, of all people, say that to him, but as much as it strokes his fragile alpha ego, that’s not what’s important right now. “But the bruises...”

“Are proof that I got me an alpha who knows how to really fuck,” Dean finishes with a grin. Then he looks down at his hip and gives the fingerprints a poke. “They don’t even hurt. Honest to god, I didn’t even know they were there until you pointed them out. You didn’t hurt me, Cas.”

“I could have,” he says. “I didn’t even know what I was doing. I completely lost myself. I don’t even remember most of it.”

“Well now I’m just insulted.”

He knows it’s a joke, and even still, he feels bad for what it insinuates. “That’s not a reflection on you, Dean. The one thing I do remember is that being with you felt right, felt so good that even thinking about it—”

“Has you ready for round two?” Dean asks, looking down between them with interest.

Castiel huffs, but he can’t exactly deny it when they can both see the way his dick’s perked up again now that Dean’s in front of him. “If what you said about your shower is true, it’s barely been...”

“We slept for an hour, close as I can tell.” They stayed tied for _an hour?_ Dean’s hands run up Castiel’s bare chest to rub over his shoulders and loop around his neck, and just that is enough to have his blood heating up. “Gotta tell ya, if I’m mostly naked and fresh outta the shower right in front of you and you don’t want to rub your scent all over me... well, consider me twice as insulted as I was a minute ago.”

“Believe me, there’s no need to be insulted.” He steps into Dean so that their bodies are even closer together and leans in enough to nuzzle his scent gland again. There’s a lingering trace of their combined scents still there from earlier and Castiel’s so proud of how extremely thoroughly he marked Dean, it gives him the confidence he needs to say what he thinks Dean wants him to say. “Get in the bed, Dean.”

“Finally,” Dean says. As if that wasn’t sassy enough on its own, Dean drops his towel with a flourish of his wrist, and before Dean can so much as _breathe,_ Castiel is tackling him to the bed.

To his absolute delight, Dean bursts out laughing as his back hits the mattress and Castiel lands next to him. The scent of joy—of pine needles—exploding into the air is so instantaneously rewarding that Castiel wishes that he could be more like Gabriel for the first time in his life. To be funny enough to make Dean laugh and sound and smell _like this_ on a regular basis would be a dream come true, and exactly what Dean deserves in his life. 

“I was wondering how far I could push you,” Dean grins up at him, obviously quite proud of himself.

“I thought omegas were supposed to be meek,” Castiel deadpans, and by God, Dean laughs again. Loudly and without apology, and Castiel can’t help it, he _has to_ lean in and drag his cheek along the scent of his happiness. 

“Never really took with me,” Dean says, breathless from his laughter.

“Thank god,” Castiel replies.

Dean only snorts a laugh this time, but the happiness in his scent doesn’t fade even a little bit. “You just gonna rub yourself on my scent gland all night or what?”

That sounds good to him. “Maybe.”

A shiver moves up his spine when Dean’s palm slides slowly but purposely up his outer thigh. “But we’re naked.” Dean’s other hand curls around Castiel’s bicep. “You’re hot.” Dean shifts and wiggles so much that Castiel's unable to keep nuzzling into his neck, and Castiel watches with uncontained amusement until Dean fits himself between his legs. It should crank his arousal up a notch to have Dean in this position, but Dean looked so ridiculous while he got himself there, he can only smile down at him fondly. “And we’re in bed.”

 _“And_ we have all day,” Castiel reminds him. 

“Yeah, to fuck.”

Castiel sighs, but keeps his smile firmly in place. “Ruts for me aren’t purely about sex. A big part of it is sex, but the other part is just as important. The part where a good alpha makes sure their chosen omega—that’s you, by the way,” he stage whispers. “—is properly scent marked, taken care of, protected, and worshiped to their fullest extent.”

“I can take care of and protect myself, thank you very much,” Dean says stubbornly, making Castiel all the more fond of him. “But I guess the rest doesn’t sound too bad.”

Dean says it in such a way that gives him the feeling it isn’t something Dean would typically admit to under different circumstances, and it warms something inside of him. Of course, his alpha side wants to be the one to protect the omega in his bed, and he would absolutely try to if there was a need regardless of what Dean says, but if Dean doesn’t want that now, he can give him the other things he’s open to. 

“Since we’re in no rush—”

“—we have all day,” Dean mimics him.

“Since we have all day,” Castiel rephrases. “And you’re naked, hot, and in my bed, perhaps you’ll indulge me and allow me to take my time.”

“S’long as it feels good, you can take all the time you want.”

He has his doubts about Dean’s patience, but he doesn’t know him well enough to call him on his suspicions. It’s possible he has Dean pegged all wrong and he’ll allow what Castiel has in mind after all. He supposes there’s only one way to find out.

He starts back where he left off, rubbing his nose gently along Dean’s scent gland. When he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, he can almost see the forest spread out in front of him. Tall, green trees with water droplets hanging off of each branch, pine needles scattered along the damp earth, and an underlying hint of smoke. Yes, it seems just scenting him is a source of arousal for Dean, and Castiel is more than happy to make him feel good. Of course, it isn’t purely selfless when he replaces his nose with his cheek, rubbing one side of his face at a time along Dean’s neck to cover him in layer upon layer of his own sweet scent, but Dean’s scent getting hotter and hotter tells him he’s not the only one enjoying it.

It seems only natural to replace his nose and his face with his lips, peppering dozens of chaste kisses to Dean’s neck, his chin, his jaw, and eventually, opening his mouth enough to let his tongue taste Dean’s supple skin. Dean’s heart is beating fiercely beneath his flesh, and Castiel loves that each one sends a little bit more of his scent out and into the air. He could drown in this scent, in the comforting warmth of the bonfire hitting his nose and soothing the beast inside of him all while steadily pumping into the room the proof that he’s making Dean feel good. 

And _god,_ does he want Dean to feel good.

“You know,” Castiel says as he forces his lips away from Dean’s scent gland and down to the hollow of his throat. He swirls his tongue in the dip, then seals his mouth to it and lavishes it with a wet, open-mouth kiss before he continues. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re used to putting on a show and pleasing others before yourself.”

“‘s my job,” Dean says. Castiel _delights_ in the low rumble of Dean’s voice when his lips are so close to his throat, and he hums quietly when Dean continues. “It’s what I’m good at.”

“I can attest to that,” Castiel agrees. He continues his trail downwards, tracing the shape of Dean’s collarbone with his lips and tongue. “But you’re not at work now. You’re not being assessed or paid for your performance.” He stops long enough to pop his head up to catch Dean’s eyes, which are already darker than they were before he started. “Frankly, I couldn’t afford you as often as I hope to have you today.”

“Doubt that.”

“Okay, I _could,_ but it still wouldn’t be very wise,” he amends with a smile. 

A part of him he’s not proud of wants to blurt out that he has enough money to give Dean anything he desires and everything he deserves, but thankfully, he’s lucid enough to keep that to himself. He pushes himself up to one elbow so he can follow the path of Dean’s muscular shoulder down his bicep and over his forearm, then he leans in to scent the soft skin at the inside of Dean’s wrist. He smells almost as strongly here as his scent gland, and it’s just as difficult to pull away from as it was his neck.

But this isn’t his final destination.

Oh no, there’s still plenty of skin left to discover and scent and mark, and he’s determined to taste it all. His lips jump from Dean’s wrist to his ribs, and Dean squirms as he kisses his way up towards his armpit, which is when he gets a hand to his forehead and a low laugh from Dean.

“Get outta there, you frickin’ weirdo. It’s an _armpit.”_

“You just showered.”

“Still weird!”

Considering Dean’s left nipple is sitting a mere six inches from his face, he finds he’s willing to be persuaded to move along. “If you insist.” He leans forward and latches on, making Dean throw his head back with a low moan Castiel wishes he could hear on repeat for the rest of his life. He cups the small rise of Dean’s breast with his palm, massaging gently as he circles his nipple with the point of his tongue. That earns him Dean’s heavy hand on the nape of his neck, and once Castiel sucks on the flesh hardening into a little bud that’s just begging for his lips to wrap around it, Dean’s fingers tightening in his hair.

“Fuck that feels good.”

It’s a needless comment, because Dean’s body is telling him everything he needs to know. He can quite literally feel Dean’s skin growing warmer beneath him, can feel the way Dean’s hips are beginning to rock gently, and he can most certainly smell the way his scent is getting hotter and smokier as Castiel continues his ministrations. A slight tug on his hair urges him to the right, and Castiel follows happily, exchanging one nipple for the other and luxuriating in the resounding groan of pleasure from Dean in the meantime. 

Dean’s nipples are a manly brown, and the left one glistening with his saliva is tempting enough that his fingers start to tease at it while his mouth works the other. He’s sure he could do just this forever, eagerly learning the exact pitch of the sound Dean makes when Castiel sucks and the distinct way Dean’s chest pushes up for more when Castiel uses a hint of teeth, but Dean, it seems, is every bit as impatient as Castiel thought he might be. The hand buried in his hair pushes down, and well, who is he to deny the gorgeous omega laid out beneath him?

He splays his hand wide and possessive on Dean’s sternum as he rubs his cheeks along his belly. Dean’s incredibly fit, but the little bit of weight he carries here and on his hips might be Castiel’s favorite physical features of Dean’s. It tells the story of a man who indulges himself occasionally, which Castiel loves to see and wants to encourage, so he pays special attention to the soft skin so Dean has no doubts about that. Once he sees the way Dean’s skin is turning pink from his stubble, he lavishes it with gentle kisses, moving from one freckle to the next like they’re landmarks on his trip. 

He drops a kiss to a large freckle above and to the right of his navel, pecks a small cluster of them near his left hip, and follows a trio of dark freckles with the tip of his tongue. It seems every new inch of skin is just as delectable as the last. Dean smells particularly sweet here, and Castiel spends long minutes drinking in Dean’s scent and leaving his own behind as much as possible. 

He eventually makes his way to Dean’s hip, which is when he guides Dean until he’s lying on his side. The smoky scent of Dean’s slick hits his nose and he notices for the first time since they got into bed that his cock is entirely hard and ready to go again. He’s not needy with it yet, though, and since he still has plenty of Dean to explore, he tries to put the tempting scent of Dean’s arousal out of his mind while he memorizes the precise slope of Dean’s curvaceous hip.

Dean’s hip leads him to Dean’s ass, which he’s absolutely charmed to discover is also covered in freckles, and Dean takes the initiative to roll over for him so he has access to all of him. He’s sure Dean thinks he’s going to eat him out again—which he is more than willing to do—but first, he has a broad set of shoulders to worship and a muscular back he needs to examine with all of the awe and devotion it deserves.

The second his hands are on Dean’s back and he feels the hard muscle beneath his palms, he feels his cock throb with need. This is exactly what he’s always been attracted to, brute strength and a solid set of muscles, and Dean has both in spades. It’s a fantasy turned reality to map out the hard planes of Dean’s body with his mouth and hands, inspiring flashes of memories he didn’t even know he had showing him how truly mouthwatering Dean looked when he was fucking him from behind earlier. Those muscles flexing and rippling, his skin shiny with sweat as Castiel pounded into him again and again.

“Startin’ to smell awful sweet there, Cas.”

Dean’s right. He’s getting more and more turned on by the second, and he’s quickly losing the will to stretch this out any longer than he has to. He follows his instinct to continue his examination of Dean’s body where they both really want him: Dean’s ass.

God, he has a great ass. Round and full with supple skin Castiel’s fingers can really sink into, but toned and hard enough that he can get a satisfying handful, too. He does so now, fitting his hands to Dean’s buttox and massaging the malleable flesh, watching raptly as it kneads under his palms. He pulls gently, spreading Dean’s cheeks and exposing his damp hole. Thanks to Dean being completely shaved, he has an excellent view of slick glistening between his thighs and along the cleft of his ass, and Castiel stares without shame, taking in the enticing sight and the heavy scent of bonfire in the air. 

He leans forward without conscious thought and follows the curve of Dean’s asscheek with his lips. He moves down between Dean’s legs to drag his tongue through the slick at the crease where Dean’s ass meets the back of his thigh, and in between his legs to work his way back up. Dean’s breathing heavily now, and his scent gets smokier and smokier each time Castiel comes close enough to his hole to really taste him, but other than the occasional moan or hitched breath, Dean doesn’t ask for anything, so Castiel takes his time. His hands drift from Dean’s ass down his thighs where he scent marks the bend of Dean’s knees with soft caresses of his thumbs, all while continuing to mouth along Dean’s ass. It’s Dean’s wiggling that urges him into position, and as the temperature in the room seems to rise directly in correlation to how close he gets to Dean’s entrance, he’s less and less inclined to stop.

Sealing his mouth over Dean’s hole and tasting his slick is the straw that broke the camel’s back, and he growls as he pushes Dean up onto his knees so he can bury his face between his cheeks the way he’s sure they both want him to. He works Dean open with his lips and tongue, alternating between lapping up the slick with quick circles around his rim and spearing inside of him as deep as he can get. He spreads Dean’s cheeks apart even wider and wiggles his tongue up inside of him, trying his best to repeat every flick of his tongue that makes Dean cry out. 

This time he has his wits about him enough to learn that Dean prefers the wide, flat of his tongue along his rim and doesn’t go nearly as crazy for a pointed tip flicking at it. He goes with what Dean likes, more than happy to adjust from little kitten licks to strong, drawn-out laps around the sensitive skin. Every now and then he thrusts his tongue in as deep as it can go, and it’s then that Dean really loses it every time.

He drops his head lower, inching down to run his tongue along Dean’s taint. He gets a string of broken curses for that, and he spends several minutes laving his tongue along the smooth skin and sucking small patches between his lips until Dean’s slick starts dripping down it. He laps it all up, one drop at a time, and reacquaints himself with Dean’s hole using an open-mouthed, lingering kiss directly to it.

Noticing how particularly sensitive Dean is to stimulation around his opening has him pulling back enough to blow a cool stream of air on Dean’s skin and watching raptly when goosebumps pop up along his flesh. Dean moans louder than he has so far, and Castiel echoes him when Dean tries grinding back into his face. He sticks his tongue out, allowing Dean to move the way he needs in order to get him exactly where he wants him. He digs his thumbs into Dean’s cheeks to keep him spread open but lets Dean set the pace, giving him the freedom to drag and grind and rock against him however he wants to.

His jaw is sore and his tongue is cramping by the time Dean says, “Cas—I need—I just need—”

“Anything,” Castiel promises him, purposely ghosting a hot breath of air over his opening.

“F-fuck,” Dean stutters. “It’s so fucking good, Cas, but I need _more.”_

It seems Dean doesn’t think he can come from this alone. Castiel has more faith than that, but he’s ultimately here to please Dean, not push him past his comfort zone, so he flips him over onto his back again. Dean’s cock is swollen an angry-looking red, smeared with precum and fit to burst. Dean’s bigger than any other male omegas he’s seen in pornography, but Castiel has been with another alpha, so his size doesn’t deter him from what he wants to do next.

He gets on his stomach between Dean’s bowlegs and steadies his cock with his hand before he lowers his mouth and sucks the tip of Dean’s cock between his lips

“Holy fucking _fuck,”_ Dean curses. His hands fly to Castiel’s hair, and Castiel flicks his eyes up to Dean. Dean’s jaw is hanging open, his eyes wide with his surprise and dark with arousal, and he’s so unbelievably gorgeous lost in pleasure that it drives Castiel to make Dean feel even better. Castiel doesn’t have a ton of experience in this area, but he knows what he likes, so he sinks down to take the rest of Dean’s significant length into his mouth.

Well, he means to, anyway, but he can only take about three quarters of it before he gags, so he pulls up a little and starts to bob his head. Dean’s reaction is immediate, and a growl rumbles in his throat when Dean’s fingers tug just a little too sharply on his hair.

“Shit, sorry. I almost never—omegas never—”

Castiel growls again, upset this time on Dean’s behalf that the people he’s used to being with are too selfish or too alpha or too _anything_ to pleasure Dean in every way he deserves. Well, that’s fine, he decides, tightening the seal of his lips and moving up and down Dean’s shaft. He’ll make sure to suck Dean off as frequently as Dean wants him to. He smells so intoxicatingly good down here, like a mixture of slick and Castiel’s scent from all of the rimming, that it’s hardly a chore. Feeling Dean’s hard cock sliding along his tongue and tasting every new wave of precome as it hits his tastebuds is a fucking privilege as far as he’s concerned, and when he applies suction on the way up to the tip and Dean calls out _his name_ like a prayer, Castiel can’t think of a single reason why he wouldn’t want to do this every day for the rest of his life.

“Oh fuck. I’m—I’m embarrassingly close right now, Cas, you gotta—”

Castiel hums, pleased beyond measure that he’s already done well enough that Dean is approaching orgasm. That’s what this was all about, after all. Making Dean feel good. His scent is so smoky now it’s going directly to his cock, and Jesus, he wants him. He wants Dean so bad, wants to fold his legs up to his chest and slam inside of him, wants to feel how soaked Dean’s slick channel is when he sinks inside of him, but no.

No, this is for Dean. 

_But Dean likes being fucked,_ his alpha reminds him, and before he can stop himself, he’s pushing two fingers up inside of Dean. Dean curses again, broken and breathless, and all it takes to make him fall apart is Castiel twisting his fingers and locating his prostate. He sucks hard on the head of Dean’s cock as he nudges his sweet spot with the pads of his fingertips, and Dean clenches down, locks up, and spills directly into Castiel’s mouth. 

Castiel moans with unabashed pleasure, happily drinking down every ounce of Dean’s salty-sweet omega semen and suckling at the tip for more. He continues slowly pumping his fingers in and out of Dean’s hole while Dean shakes his way through the rest of his orgasm, content to stay right where he is until it’s no longer pleasurable. So it’s Dean who eventually pulls him off, tugging gently on his hair and guiding him straight up to his mouth where Dean seals his lips over Castiel’s. 

Dean licks into Castiel’s mouth, making a quiet sound of pleasure that lights up his insides, makes his chest warm and has his alpha patting him on the back for how well he could please his omega, because _god._ Dean reeks of satisfaction and joy, and Castiel would happily go without sex for the rest of his life if he could always make Dean smell this good. 

He’s barely had the thought when Dean’s hand wraps around his cock and guides him between his spread legs. His cockhead is being led directly to Dean’s dripping hole, and Castiel wrenches his lips away while he still has enough control to stop him. 

“My rut isn’t so bad right now,” he tells Dean. “I can wait.”

“Well I can’t,” Dean says firmly. “I want you to knot me.”

Arousal floods through him so hard and so fast he feels lightheaded all over again. Dean wants his knot. His omega needs him. 

“Okay,” he says roughly. “I'll give you what you need, my omega.” Dean’s eyes dancing with amusement is what clues him into what he just said, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. “I meant Dean. I’m sorry, it’s my rut—”

“‘s’okay,” Dean tells him. “Nice to know I’ve got what it takes to make you lose your mind a little after all.”

“A little?” Castiel asks, exasperated. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Dean licks his lips, arches one perfect eyebrow, and shoots him a shit-eating grin as he wiggles his ass enough so that the head of Castiel’s cock slides through the slick between Dean’s cheeks. “Show me.”

Castiel pushes inside of him.

Immediately, he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of Dean’s insides gripping him so fucking tight and _incredibly_ wet, and although he’s barely even bottomed out, he can already feel the tingling at the base of his cock telling him his knot’s beginning to swell. He drops his forehead to Dean’s and tries to think, tries to get a single thought in his head that isn’t overtaken by how tight and hot and absolutely _perfect_ Dean feels, but Dean’s not having it.

Dean clenches around him, pulling a groan from the depths of Castiel’s soul and erasing what little control he was clinging to with a passionate kiss, and Castiel’s gone. He gives himself over to the instinct to move, to pull out a little bit and thrust back inside, withdrawing further and further with each thrust until he’s using the whole of his length to fuck Dean. Every time he bottoms out he can feel his knot swelling bigger and bigger, and with Dean encouraging him with his hands on Castiel’s ass and his mouth branding Castiel’s with a series of fiery kisses, he knows he isn’t going to last.

“Harder,” Dean murmurs against his lips, and Castiel obliges him.

The first snap of his hips has Dean’s head tilting back, subconsciously offering the bouquet of his scent gland up for grabs. Castiel groans at the sight and follows the smoky scent directly to the source, huffing breaths against Dean’s sweaty skin as he rocks into him again and again.

“Cas, come on,” Dean complains, still wanting it harder.

He must have slowed down once he started scenting Dean. His rut wants it hard and fast, but Castiel wants to cherish Dean, wants to make him feel as good as possible, and even though he doesn’t know Dean’s body well enough to know if this is possible, he reaches between them just in case and finds Dean half hard already. He and Dean exchange a look, and when Dean nods his head in permission or maybe even encouragement, Castiel is ready and willing to rise to the challenge. This is something he’s willing to wait for. He slows his pace even further, still fucking Dean steadily but not hard enough that either of them are going to reach the finish line just like this. All the while, he rubs and strokes Dean’s cock until it starts to really plump up again and his breath hitches in his throat when he feels Dean’s cock filling out and reaching full hardness in record time.

“Oh my god, Cas, please,” Dean whines. “I’m good. I’m hard. Just fuck me already.”

“I’ve got you,” Castiel promises. “Just let me take care of you.”

Dean swallows but nods, and this time it’s him who leans up and runs his nose over Castiel’s throat, seeking his scent gland and breathing in deep once he finds it. “You smell—you smell so fucking sweet.”

He’s sure his heart is going to beat right out of his chest with how pleased and proud he is to hear that, and knowing that Dean is hard and slick and smelling like arousal all over again because of him is having a strong and potent effect on him. He’s suddenly slammed with pleasure when his knot throbs, indicating it’s close to popping any second now. Encouraged by the prospect, he thrusts harder, deeper, and grinds his fat knot against Dean’s sensitive rim, feeling the animalistic part of him rising up within him when Dean whines his name along with another plea to knot him.

“You want it?” Castiel asks, half out of his mind with lust. “You want my knot?”

 _“Y-yes,”_ Dean chokes out, and Castiel spears into him fast and hard. It feels so incredible he does it again, sinking into him over and over, grinding his knot against his loosening rim, burning with anticipation of the moment when it locks, when it pops, when it’s inside of his omega deep enough to fill him up with a bunch of babies. “You feel so damn good, _holy fuck.”_

Castiel grits his teeth against the onslaught of pleasure, of the spike of arousal he feels just from hearing Dean say that. “Dean, I’m—”

 _“Yes,”_ Dean breathes, repeats it every time Castiel drives inside of him. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Castiel’s free hand clutches at the bed sheet, his jaw coming unhinged as he feels pleasure building so far past anything he’s ever felt previously he doesn’t know how he isn’t already coming, already spilling deep inside of Dean. Dean’s hand joins Castiel’s where it’s still wrapped around Dean’s cock, helping Castiel pick up the slack and continue stroking him while he’s clinging to the edge of his sanity, to the edge of his release, to the edge of oblivion.

 _“Dean_. You feel, fuck, you feel—” But he can’t get the rest of the words out because he breaks off into a gasping moan as his knot pops and catches. He shoves himself as deep into Dean as he can possibly get before he’s coming hard, planting his nose directly on Dean’s scent gland where he can smell his claim and smother his deepest, most secret desires as he empties himself into his omega.

_Mine, mate, breed._

He opens his mouth and seals it over Dean’s bite, sucking hard to renew his claim on Dean with a bruise. He tightens his fist, Dean drives his rock-hard cock through it once more, and Castiel’s growl breaks free when he feels Dean’s whole body go taut like a bow right before he comes a second time, dribbling all over their entwined fingers and onto his own stomach.

Once Dean’s spent, he seems to collapse back onto the mattress, and Castiel has a dopey smile on his face when Dean pulls him down with him. Dean’s arms are strong and feel really good—really right—wrapped around him, and his smile could probably be seen from space when Dean cocks his head to the side so Castiel can rest with his nose in the crook of his neck where it belongs.

He’s beyond relaxed, his body, heart, and mind all so, so incredibly sated, that he speaks without thinking. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

He notices when Dean’s body tenses again, but it only lasts a moment. And even though he feels the bob of Dean’s throat when he swallows before he speaks, Dean’s voice is still small and broken when he answers him. “Me too.”

And it’s the scent of pine slowly leaking into the air that both fills him with hope and lulls him back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sure as hell doesn’t have to convince Cas into the third round. He’s still drifting after the two mind-blowing orgasms Cas gave him when he feels Cas, hard again and rutting along the crack of his ass. Cas smells sweet as fuck and his scent has one hell of an effect on him before he’s even awake if the slick dripping from his ass is anything to go by.

“Dean, wake up. Can I? Can I—I _need_ —”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles, and the word is barely out of his mouth before he feels his ass nearly split in half as Cas thrusts into him. 

They’ve already fucked twice today and still, he wasn’t ready for the all-encompassing pleasure he feels when Cas is inside of him. Nothing’s ever felt like this, _fit_ like this, and every time they fuck he’s just as blindsided by it as he was the first time. It takes his breath away now, makes his core muscles tense and his legs spread to give Cas more space to really get between them and drive in nice and deep.

Cas takes the invitation for what it is, grabbing a hold of one of Dean’s legs and pulling it back to hitch over Castiel’s thigh, and now that he’s _really_ open, he can actually hear the wet squelching sound of Cas’s next thrust.

“Fuck,” Cas curses. 

A forbidden thrill shoots up his spine every time he hears Cas swear. Cas is so docile, so awkward and adorably nerdy out of bed that watching him give into alpha instincts is inexplicably hot. Plus, the dude’s got a voice made for audio porn or something (is that a thing?), and every time Cas fails to bite back a curse, Dean feels his inner omega swoon.

He gasps in surprise when the fingers clamped down on his hip slip down and wrap around his cock. _Jesus,_ he’s hard again already too, and when Cas starts stroking him in the same ruthless rhythm he’s using to fuck his brains out, his sexed-out brain is awfully damn proud of himself for landing an alpha who doesn’t have his head so far up his ass that he refuses to put in the work to please the person he’s currently in bed with. 

As good as it is, it’s different than the last three times they’ve had sex. This isn’t as intense as the first time was, not nearly as rough as the second, and it sure as hell isn’t as drawn out as the third. It’s somewhere in between. Cas is obviously letting his instincts take over because he’s fucking him hard and fast, but he’s not so far gone that it’s rough or animalistic like it was the first time today. He can already feel the slight swell of Cas’s knot starting to grow thanks to the width of it stimulating his rim every time Cas bottoms out and withdraws to do it again, and that’s more proof that this is going to be quick and dirty.

Thankfully he’s wet enough that nothing’s sore yet—in fact, it feels damn good—and so he starts tilting his hips back to meet Cas’s rapid thrusts. Cas growls the first time they meet in the middle. Cas’s thick cock is slamming into Dean hard enough that he can hear the slap of Castiel’s sharp hip bones connecting with his ass, and that combined with the indescribably sexy sound of Cas’s deep voice rumbling in his chest has Dean’s hand coming up behind him to pull Cas down by his hair to scent him the way Cas should be every time they’re together.

Cas hums, all low and sultry as he nuzzles into Dean’s neck, and fuck, he wishes that didn’t make him so wet and get him so fucking hot, but it feels so _right_ when Cas scents him that he thinks he could get drunk on the sensation. He can sure as fuck get drunk on their combined scents, because nothing has ever smelled so good, so perfect, so goddamn heavenly as the scent of roasted marshmallows permeating the air and he wants to bathe in it. Hell, he’d drown himself in it if he could, let the wave of their combined scents wash over him and pull him under where he’s as coated in it as he can possibly be. 

He whines when Cas’s knot swells impossibly bigger, and now Cas is fucking sucking on his neck, making his instincts go wild knowing that his mate is so pleased with him that he keeps marking him and claiming him over and over. Cas’s scent is getting so damn sweet now, burrowing inside of him more and more with every breath that he can hardly even think through the way it’s clouding his head, otherwise he probably would’ve been able to figure out how close Cas must be. Instead, he pushes back into him again and again, switching seamlessly between riding the fat length of that alpha cock like the professional he is and fucking forwards into the tunnel of Cas’s massive fist.

“I’m—I’m— _shit,_ shit. _Dean!”_

Cas’s voice booms through the room when his knot pops and locks, and all it takes to have Dean hurtling head-first into his own orgasm is a scrape of Castiel’s alpha canines along the bend of his neck, and he’s jackknifing forward as he spills over Castiel’s hand.

He’s already come enough times today that it hits him like a damn bus, and he goes from ecstasy to exhaustion in less than a minute flat. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean pants. “We’re gonna kill each other.”

“I was too rough—”

“Oh my god, this again?” Dean complains tiredly. “You just made me come for the fourth time today, Cas, I think we’ve established you’re doin’ just fine.”

Cas breathes heavily behind him, ducking his face to hide it in the bend of his neck. “I hate losing control with you.”

“You’re an alpha,” Dean points out. 

“I’m not _just_ an alpha. I’m a person, too. One who has morals and expectations about how I should treat other people.”

“Alright,” Dean says, wanting to cut him off before he gets too far into his speech. “Don’t go standing on a soapbox, I get it.”

Cas doesn’t say anything to that, and he wonders if he pissed him off or if he fell asleep again. Since Cas is behind him, he can’t turn to see, and for once, Cas isn’t being handsy or cuddly after sex. Dean works on catching his breath and waiting for his heart beat to steady while he tries not to overthink it, wishing he’d grabbed his phone from his room earlier so he’d have something to do while he waits for yet another knot to go down.

Cas suddenly breaks the silence with, “You should have some water.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“I’m not the only one who needs to replenish bodily fluids,” Cas reminds him. 

Dean sighs, hating that Cas is right and that he has to listen to him. “Where’s the water?”

“In a case just under the bed. If you lean over the side of the bed you should be able to reach it.”

They’re still tied together, but they cooperate well enough that it’s only mildly embarrassing to shimmy forward and lean over the bed, though he’s pretty sure he makes Cas come twice more before they’re comfortable again. The dude is breathing like he ran a marathon and his hands are back to running over Dean’s hips and belly until Dean passes him the water bottle and makes him drink, too. 

Their scents are starting to settle, not nearly as thick in the air now, and the longer they lie there together with Cas’s dick still up his ass, the more his mind starts to clear... and unfortunately, the more awkward it feels. Cas’s hands stop wandering and he wonders if he’s starting to feel as weird about all of this now that they’re not drunk on each other’s scents, too, but he’s too afraid to ask the question out loud. 

Sharing a heat or rut with somebody is always really intense, but it’s been even more so with Cas this time around, so it only makes sense that coming down from it would be more intense than usual, too. By the time Cas’s knot has gone down enough for Cas to pull out, he's starting to get chilly and is ready to put some clothes on for however long they’ll last.

He remembers all too well how Cas reacted last time he left without him, though, so he knows he needs to be careful here. 

He rolls onto his back and looks over at Cas. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good right now. You? Are you sore at all?”

“Nah, all good. The room’s kinda starting to reek and I could use a change of scenery, though, so I was thinking we could head downstairs and watch some TV maybe?”

Cas nods. “You’re free to do whatever you want, Dean. You—” Cas stops, swallows, and darts his eyes away quickly. “You don’t have to stay in my room or help me with the rest of my rut if you don’t feel like it anymore.”

“I know,” Dean says simply. “I’m not sayin’ that, though. I’m just sayin’ that I could use a little break from these four walls. And maybe some clothes.”

“Would it bother you if I keep my shirt off?”

Bother him? Like seeing Cas’s ripped muscles are ever going to _bother him._ “Nope. I’m gonna clean up a bit and then I’ll meet you downstairs for some more Queer Eye?”

“Sure.”

Dean sits up, but looks over his shoulder before he gets out of bed. “Don’t freak out on me again, okay? And if you do, just come find me.”

Cas nods again, looking adorably flushed. “I will. Thank you.”

With that, Dean grabs his soiled boxers from before and walks out of Cas’s bedroom. As much as he thought the non-rut infused hallway would soothe him, it’s actually kind of the opposite. The clearer air smells all wrong, and he has to fight the instinct to turn back around and swaddle himself in the blankets that smelled too strongly only a few seconds ago. All this scenting each other together with the way their scents are so compatible is messing with his head. He hurries down the hallway and into the bathroom to wash his sweaty face, clean off the cum from his chest and the slick from between his cheeks, then he crosses the hallway to his bedroom to find some clothes.

He knows they aren’t likely to stay on long, so he throws on a pair of lounge pants that are basically just pajamas without any plaid and a plain grey t-shirt he usually wears to sleep in. With all that done, he grabs his cell phone and heads down the hall. “All good?” he calls out in the direction of Cas’s room.

“Just changing the sheets, I’ll be right down.”

He sounds fine, so Dean takes him at his word and pads down the stairs. He gets them both some bottled Gatorade from the fridge and plans to ask Cas about a snack so they can keep their energy up once he joins him, so he gets himself comfortable on the couch while he waits. He’s got a couple of missed messages from Charlie about his cam show earlier, and a missed call from Sam with no voicemail.

He texts Sam back first, then switches to Charlie’s message while he waits for Sam to message him back. Turns out Sam wanted to tell him about the grade on the latest assignment he turned in, and so Dean’s beaming with pride when Cas comes down to join him.

Cas looks awkward and unsure again as he approaches the couch, so to break the ice, Dean says, “I grabbed you a Gatorade. Thought it’d help more than the water.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. He eyes the couch for a second too long to be natural, and then sits next to him, carefully leaving space between them. 

Amused, Dean asks, “Really?”

Cas cocks his head to the side, reminding him of some kind of giant bird or something. “What?”

“Thought you’d be all over me the second we were in the same room again,” Dean explains. “Thought alphas were all about keeping their omegas close in a rut.”

“When I can think clearly, I _am_ aware that you’re not actually my omega,” Cas says. It makes no fucking sense that those words slice through him like a knife, but he flinches before he can stop himself from doing it anyway. “I would prefer to be closer to you, but I don’t want to ask you for more than you’ve already given.”

“Let’s make this real simple, okay?” he suggests. Cas nods eagerly. “Until your rut is over, you have blanket permission to treat me like I am your omega. That’s what I’m here for, to make your rut as easy on you as possible. The only hard limit I have is with biting, which is probably a non-issue with you since you’ve already been there and done that. Just don’t do it again. Does that help?”

“In a sense,” Cas answers. “Even if we were actually together, I would still like to think that I would offer you the chance to sit on the other end of the couch without crowding into your space. But now that you’ve offered yourself up for being closer...” Cas shrugs. “I’m not about to turn you down.”

Dean shoots him a smile. “How do you want me?”

“Your choice. I could put my arm around you or we could both lie down and you could lie with me?”

“Let’s do the arm thing and give me a break from being on my back,” Dean quips.

Cas doesn’t waste any time scooting over to wrap his arm around him, but he also doesn’t let the joke go. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. From what I recall, you were only on your back once, and not even the whole time.”

That surprises a laugh out of him, but it dies in his throat when Cas lowers his nose to his scent gland to drag in a deep breath of his scent. Cas stops at the same time his laughter does, and because _he knows_ Cas is going to apologize, he speaks before Cas can. 

“It’s fine, just caught me off guard,” he explains. Then, wanting to move along so things don’t get awkward, he says, “Queer Eye?”

Cas reaches for the remote and gets it all cued up, and they both shift and wiggle a little bit until they seem to settle into a comfortable position at last. It’s actually sorta nice. He’s been having sex and being felt up by alphas (and occasionally a posturing beta) five days a week for the last five years, so he doesn’t exactly have a lot of time or interest in the romantic side of things. He has sex, feels lavished with praise, appreciated, and desired every day at work, so why would he need a boyfriend or a girlfriend?

Without going to Patience every day, though, he’s definitely noticed a shift. He’s been a lot more horny, that’s for sure, but he’s also started to feel a little touch-starved. If it weren’t for Cas’s bite on his neck he might have actually tried dating for the first time in his adult life, but he knew it would be pointless until Cas’s mark decides to start fading. Now, a few days later, he’s freaking cuddling with the guy who bit him and actually enjoying it.

Who saw _that_ coming?

He knows it isn’t going to last and that somebody like Cas who’s rich and successful and a respected member of the community or whatever isn’t going to want anything to do with him after his rut, so he figures he might as well enjoy it while he can. With any luck, he’ll be so touched out with Cas being all touchy-feely over the rest of the day that he’ll be good to go until his mark fades and he can find somebody he’s actually interested in to take out on a date. But until then, he’s going to soak up the tart apple scent of the dude pressed so close to him and zone out for some good gay TV.

He only makes it one episode before his stomach reminds him he was hungry when he came down. “Hey, Cas? What ch’ya got for snacks around here?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. But we can order something in if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, perking up.

Cas smiles at him indulgently. “My treat. Anything you want.”

The answer comes to him before he even has to think about it. “Ice cream. God, I’d _die_ for a Blizzard right now.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Cas says, still smiling. 

He uses Uber Eats to order ice cream for them both, and when Dean sees Buster Bars on the menu, he says how much he and Sam used to love those when they were kids and Cas adds a box to the order before he pays. Twenty minutes later, ice cream is delivered to the door, and they dig in back in front of the TV. Even Cas can’t eat ice cream with one arm around Dean, but he does tuck in nice and close so that they’re pressed together from hip to knee. Cas places his hand on Dean’s knee more often than not between bites, too, and as much as he never really thought of himself as the cuddling type, he can’t deny that he’s enjoying the closeness.

They’re part-way through episode three and their ice cream is long gone when Cas starts returning his nose to Dean’s scent gland more and more frequently. Dean can smell the cinnamon starting to overpower the apple, and as if that wasn’t enough of a warning for what was coming next, Cas’s skin starts to heat up next to his, too.

Dean turns towards him, almost putting them nose-to-nose with how close Cas was to his neck, and notices Cas’s face is as red as his skin is hot and his eyes are all glassy. His heart clenches at the sight of him, the poor guy, and without thinking, he smooths a hand through Cas’s unruly hair. Cas’s eyes close at the touch and his scent flares so strongly, Dean’s like a moth to a flame and suddenly it’s his turn to nose his way towards Cas’s scent gland.

He nuzzles into it, pleased when Cas tilts his head back to invite him in, and when Cas’s hand strokes down his back and applies the tiniest little bit of pressure, Dean leans in even closer. His chest presses against Cas’s, he feels the heat from Cas’s bare skin through his t-shirt, and when Cas’s hand settles into his hip, he goes with his instincts and swings his leg over so that he can straddle Cas’s lap.

Cas makes a low sound of pleasure as soon as Dean’s on top of him, but Dean isn’t ready to move his face away from Cas’s neck yet. 

“You need me again?” he asks, though he’s already pretty damn sure what the answer is since Cas’s cock is hard and waiting beneath him.

“Please,” Cas replies.

Cas’s voice is already lower than it was all through their chatting during Queer Eye, and the deep rumble of it strikes a chord in him. He opens his mouth to start a trail of wet kisses along Cas’s neck, marveling at both his apple cinnamon scent and the thick cords of muscle even _here._ “You’re so damn hot, Cas.”

That seems to erase whatever hesitancy Cas had left, and Dean’s breath catches when he fits those big hands directly to his ass and squeezes. 

“You smell—” Cas stops, nudges Dean’s head to the size with his nose, and rubs his face along the side of Dean’s neck “—absolutely perfect.”

Pride swells inside of him, but he chuckles as he sits back on Cas’s legs and braces himself on Cas’s strong shoulders. Cas’s hands slide down and start rubbing up and down his thighs, his thumbs grazing his groin and helping along the surprisingly persistent chubby he already has going on. “Probably has nothing to do with how I smell like you, huh?”

“Nothing at all,” Cas lies, and Dean’s still smiling when Cas grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him in for a kiss. 

Their lips meet messily, and during the second it takes for them to realign and slot into place, he realizes Cas tastes like Oreo cookies. As far as Dean’s concerned, there isn’t a damn thing wrong with that, so when Cas’s tongue slips into his mouth, he’s totally on board to meet it halfway for a passionate kiss. Any thoughts of cookies go flying from his mind when Cas cranks up the heat on their kiss, using just the right amount of tongue to have Dean groaning against his lips. Cas kisses the same way he fucks, with a single-minded focus that manages to turn his brain from _this is nice_ to so hot it feels like smoke is shooting out of his ears in a matter of seconds. 

Cas’s hands are everywhere, moving from his face to his shoulders and down his back to grab at his ass again all while he continues to dominate Dean’s mouth with one sinful flick of his tongue at a time. In no time at all, Cas is grinding Dean down onto the hard line of his cock and Dean is slicking through his cotton pants. His shirt gets pulled off and tossed aside, his nipples get ravished by Cas’s talented mouth, and Cas’s hands slide down the back of his pants to get two handfuls of his bare ass. 

Their lips stay locked together whenever possible, and with Cas hitting all of his hot spots one at a time, he’s ready and eager for the main event when Cas starts pushing Dean’s pants over his hips. Cas watches him without apology when he pulls away enough so that he can shift from side to side to get one pant leg off at a time, and the heated look in his eyes throws Dean back to the memory of Cas looking at him just like this from across the room before they even met. 

Cas always wanted him, and he was drawn to Cas just as fast, spent the whole time with the other alphas hoping that the hot guy with the crazy hair and blue eyes would be the one who got to fuck him. Well, he got his wish then, and he’s about to get it again now, he thinks as he climbs back into Cas’s lap.

“You’re so gorgeous, Dean,” Cas says reverently. 

His hands tell the same story, once again roaming Dean’s body freely while Dean lifts himself up enough to fish Cas’s hard cock out of his pants. He pulls the elastic band down just far enough to free him, then lets it catch beneath his balls. Cas’s breath hitches, and because Dean knows exactly what that feels like, he has a knowing grin on his face when he swipes his hand between his cheeks to use his slick to coat Cas’s cock. 

Cas grabs him by the hips like he’s going to pull him down onto his cock, but Dean stays where he is and says, “Uh uh.” Cas freezes, but the growl climbs up his throat again and it only makes Dean smirk at his own power. “I’m on top. I get to lead this time.”

Cas’s eyes flash with arousal, and while he doesn’t try to force Dean down the way he so clearly wants to, he does beg. “Dean, please.”

To see what society has taught him his whole life is supposed to be a big, incredibly strong man driven entirely by his alpha instincts not only deferring to what Dean wants, but actually _begging_ for him is probably the single sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Cas has been so good to him through all of this, and he’s just as turned on by Cas’s restraint as he is by Cas handing over the reins, so he’s more than ready to reward such a well-behaved alpha by taking control and sinking down on that fat cock.

He lines Cas up with a hand between his legs and then does just that, pressing down slowly so that he can feel Cas filling him up a little bit more one second at a time. Cas’s fingers dig into the flesh of his ass, holding him open until he’s taken Cas’s cock all the way in and his ass is flush with the bowl of Castiel’s hips. 

“Oh god,” Cas gasps. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” 

It seems like Cas doesn’t know where to look first. Cas’s eyes rake over Dean’s face to his chest and then lower still, gazing heatedly at the sight of Dean’s cock hard and standing proud. He gets it, because Cas looks damn good just from the waist up, too. Only difference is he can’t seem to make himself look away from Cas’s face once they make eye contact. Something about Cas just pulls him in, always has. And god, is he a fucking sight with his kiss-swollen lips, high cheek bones stained red, and his usually bright blue eyes almost swallowed entirely by the black of his dilated pupils.

He bares his neck to him without a thought, and with Cas’s face in the crook of his neck, he starts to move. He starts by rotating his hips in slow, dirty little circles that have the length of Cas’s cock rubbing up against his insides and grazing his prostate every time he tilts his hips just right. He keeps his head craned towards the ceiling, his lips parting with a sharp breath when Cas opens his mouth and leaves wet kisses to his scent gland, sending an electric current of desire down his spine and directly to his cock.

He twists from the waist up, rolling his abdominal muscles and shoulders in time with his hips to put on a little show that pulls a low groan from Cas a split second before Cas’s big hands sweep possessively from hip to shoulder and back down again. He feels so fucking _full_ he can’t seem to stop himself from rocking back and forth every now and then, feeling that thick cock really fill him up the way only Cas has ever been able to. He alternates between the dirty circular motion and the tortuously slow back and forth, really concentrating on the sensation of every inch of Cas’s cock sliding in and out of him while Cas’s hold on his hips gets tighter and tighter.

The heat between them grows slowly but surely, and the aroma of their combined scents is so heavy in the air it’s almost intoxicating by the time he stops grinding and really starts to move. He uses Cas’s strong shoulders for leverage and lifts himself halfway up Cas’s cock so that he can lower himself back down in one well-practiced movement. It feels incredible, and he’s lifting himself back up to do it again even as pleasure is still reverberating through him from the last time. Cas maintains his grip and uses his alpha strength to help him along. He doesn’t try to change the pace or the rhythm, but he takes some of Dean’s weight and cuts the strain on his thighs in half. 

He’s able to move up Cas’s cock further now, and pauses to hold eye contact while he keeps just the head of Cas’s cock between his cheeks for three torturous seconds before he slams back down, impaling himself on Cas’s cock. Cas curses under his breath as Dean’s cock bobs heavily between them, dragging along Cas’s stomach each time he moves up and down. He feels _incredible,_ strong and sexy and so fucking powerful, and it drives him to ride the length of Cas’s cock like a man possessed. He’s only thinking about himself when he tilts his hips and makes sure Cas’s cock hits him just right on every downstroke, and once he finds the rhythm that works best for him, he selfishly maintains it while pleasure builds inside of him until he can no longer ignore the expanding knot at the base of Cas’s cock. With Cas letting him move exactly how he needs to in order to get off, it means that this is his best chance at coming untouched. He just needs Cas to hold out long enough for him to get there. 

“Don’t come yet,” he warns Cas.

“I’m trying,” Cas says, his voice harsh and breathy. “But the way you look, the way you feel, the way you _smell,”_ Cas growls. “You’re flawless, Dean. Absolutely flawless.”

Hearing his alpha—hearing _Cas,_ he corrects—talk about him like that pleases him to the very core and makes him want to be impossibly closer to Cas. He leans in, erasing the few inches of space between their bodies, and loops his arms around Cas’s neck nice and tight while he brings their lips together. Cas sits up a little bit straighter, surging up into the kiss and wrapping his strong arms around him. His cock is trapped between their bodies now, and with Cas continuing to help hold his weight, he’s free to really ride him. 

The very first time he lowers himself back down with their bodies so close, he knows he’s found the perfect angle to make him feel as full as he likes it while also stimulating that sweet spot deep inside of him. Immediately, he starts a punishing, frantic pace, rising and falling on top of Cas faster and harder than he has up until now. Cas feels so good inside of him, so fat and long, sliding out of him and then filling him up better than anything he’s ever had. He drills himself down on his cock mindlessly, working himself into a frenzy and maintaining a brutal pace that has his thighs screaming within minutes. Cas’s knot stimulating his rim adds a sharp twinge of pleasure each time he drops down, and with their lips connected and his cock sliding through his own precum on Cas’s stomach, he can feel the undeniable beginnings of his orgasm rising up within him.

“Dean,” Cas groans, pulling away just enough to nip at his lips sharply enough that Dean outright moans from how good it feels. Fuck he’s close, and he already knows it’s gonna feel, so, so good.

“Close,” Dean warns him.

“Oh fuck,” Cas curses. “You—you’re entirely too good at this. I can’t—I don’t know if—”

“Don’t you dare come,” Dean threatens, and he’s driven that much closer to the edge by the lost, frustrated whine that comes from Cas before he smashes their lips back together.

Oh, this is _good._ It’s always been good with Cas, every time so far, but this? This is something else. This is really, _really_ fucking good, and it’s suddenly so overwhelming that he can’t maintain their kiss because he’s breathing so hard. Their lips part and Dean’s instantly chanting, “Cas, Cas, Cas,” trying to drown out the incessant, _mate, mate, mate_ that always echoes in his head right before Cas is about to make him come. 

He tilts his head back, feeling absolutely glutenous with the amount of pleasure he’s currently experiencing. His head’s swimming with the scent of roasted marshmallow and everything he’s aware of is calling out for Cas, wanting him closer, wanting him for good. Cas mouths at his scent gland, making Dean’s mating mark burn beneath the alpha’s lips who put it there, and logically, he knows he’s covered in bruises already, knows he’s been marked over and over by Cas, but there’s a part of him still craving more. 

“Suck,” Dean begs. “Mark me.” Just _hearing_ himself say that, knowing how fucking bad he wants it for the first time in his god damn life, has arousal surging through him from head to toe. All in the same moment, Cas grabs a hold of the ends of his hair to tug his head back even further, latches onto his bite with a growl that goes directly to Dean’s cock, and thrusts up hard and deep inside of him.

“Ah, fuck!” he shouts hoarsely, so close to the edge now that he can damn near taste it.

“My omega,” Cas snarls, a split second before his teeth scrape on his skin. 

He knows Cas isn’t gonna bite him again because he just told him not to, and still, his whole body prepares for it just the same. He smells his own fiery scent pumping from his scent gland to draw Cas in, his ass gushes slick like a fucking waterfall, and slams himself down on Cas to grind onto his knot.

He can’t hold in his own gasp of, “Yes, yes, please alpha, _fuck me,”_ and Cas delivers without hesitation. 

One more sharp upwards thrust from Cas drives his knot past his rim and deep inside of him, and that’s all it takes to have his breath burst out of his lungs like flames and his muscles seize as his mouth drops open in a silent scream while his pleasure finally reaches its peak.

His ass clamps around Cas’s knot, squeezing hard to encourage him to fill him with wave after wave of alpha cum. He grinds down on the fat knot to help himself through his orgasm, to satisfy his inner omega who wants to be bred, to be filled with his alpha’s seed and round with his children.

Dean’s neck is stinging _beautifully_ when Cas finally lets up and catches his lips in a passionate kiss instead. A big hand runs down his spine and the other cups his face as Cas continues kissing him, simultaneously soothing him and helping him come down from such an intense high. He melts against Cas a little bit at a time as their kiss transforms into something soft and slow and so fucking sweet he can feel his chest ache from it. 

The last thing in the world he wants is to pull his lips away from Castiel’s, but he knows without knowing how that it’s his scent that’s going to make the ache go away, so he breaks their kiss and drops his nose to Cas’s neck. He peppers kisses along his golden skin until he finds the single most potent-smelling inch, then nuzzles into it, huffing deep breaths and trying to hold the scent in his nostrils for as long as possible until he has to release it.

One breath at a time, he feels the tightness in his chest begin to loosen, and as Cas’s scent starts to change from that burning hot cinnamon sugar to apple and vanilla and buttery goodness, Dean’s officially in heaven. Cas smells satisfied, which makes Dean feel like his insides are glowing with pride, but the thing that really gets him is how fucking _happy_ Cas smells. It’s crisp and tart with just a hint of sweetness to it, and Dean knows without a doubt that he could smell this every minute of every day for the rest of his life and never get used to it.

It’s just _right._

He floats in that happy head space for a while, feeling better than he’s felt in _years._ He’s never really had sex with any kind of emotional connection before, and even if he and Cas are just friends, it brings something new to the table for sure. It’s awesome, and if his legs weren’t starting to tingle from the way they’re tucked up under him, he’d be more than happy to stay just like this until Cas’s knot goes down. But he’s pretty sure if he does that, he’s not gonna be able to walk for the rest of the day.

“I might not’ve thought this all the way through,” Dean admits.

“Why? What’s the matter?” Cas checks.

“I’m not gonna be able to move with my legs stuck like this.”

“Hold on,” Cas tells him. 

It’s a needless warning considering how carefully Cas cradles him in his arms, but between one breath and the next, Cas twists to the side and lowers Dean gently onto his back on the couch. His legs fall to the sides as Cas lays himself out on top of Dean, and Dean laughs a little when Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder with his face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“How’s that?” Cas asks.

His voice is muffled, but he gets the gist. “Pretty smooth, Cas.”

“I thought so,” Cas replies. 

Dean watches with a small smile on his face as Cas reaches blindly for the coffee table, batting his hand around a few times until he finds what he was looking for and wordlessly hands Dean his bottle of Gatorade and the remote control for the TV. Cas is such a good alpha, making sure Dean’s taken care of before he even thinks about himself. 

By the time Dean’s finished his first sip, he hears a soft whuffing sound coming from Cas. “Cas?” Dean asks. No reply. “Castiel?” Still nothing. He lifts his shoulder so that Cas’s face is exposed, and even though Cas moves right back in to press his nose back against his scent gland, he was able to get a glimpse of Cas’s eyes closed and his mouth slack.

He’s already asleep.

He would like to make a joke about doing all the work and still tiring out a big, bad alpha in a rut, but since Cas is sleeping, it would fall on deaf ears anyway. Thankfully he’s got his drink and the remote control, though, so he restarts the episode they were on before they got distracted and settles in to wait for Cas’s knot to go down while Cas sleeps it off.

If there’s a tiny part of him that enjoys the cuddling more than he has any other time he helped an alpha through a rut, well, he can worry about that when he doesn’t have Cas’s hair tickling his chin.

Castiel comes into consciousness slowly. Dean’s body is warm and soft beneath him, his scent fresh enough that Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if he opened his eyes and found himself perched on a cliff with a whole forest behind him, and perhaps best of all, Dean’s fingers are gently pushing through the hair at the back of his head. He presses a lingering kiss to Dean’s scent gland, perfectly content to stay just as he is for as long as Dean will allow him to.

“Look who’s back in the land of the living,” Dean teases.

“Sorry,” Castiel says automatically. “I’m not being very good company.”

“You smell good enough that you _almost_ balanced out how annoying your snoring was.”

Castiel frowns. “I don’t snore.”

“Beg to differ.”

As much as he doesn’t want to, he knows the polite thing to do is to sit up and apologize. He nuzzles into Dean’s scent gland once more, drags the side of his face along Dean’s neck, and forces himself up into a sitting position. “Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it, but I apologize if it’s true.”

“s’okay,” Dean says easily. “Can you pass me my shirt?”

Castiel looks around and reaches for it once he finds it beneath the coffee table, then quickly averts his eyes as Dean uses it to wipe up the slick and cum between his ass cheeks. “God, that’s disgusting,” Dean breathes. “But it feels a hell of a lot better now.”

“I should probably put some pants on.” He passes Dean’s to him and then steps into his own and indulges in a long, deep stretch, which is when he realizes he has cum dried to his chest. He thinks about showering, but he’s not ready to wash away the layers of Dean’s scent on his skin, so he decides to just give himself a wipe down. “I’ll be right back.”

He takes care of that in the bathroom, empties his bladder, and rearranges his hair into some semblance of order, then goes back out to the living room to join Dean.

“I’m starving,” Dean declares. “Got any ideas about dinner?”

“Anything you want. I can buy if you’d like to order in, or I can attempt to cook with what little food I have here.”

“You cook?” Dean asks.

“I did say _attempt.”_

“Let’s order in. I’m too fucked out to cook.”

His inner alpha is pleased by that, so he hands Dean his phone and lets him scroll through Uber Eats. Dean decides on a big, juicy burger (his words), so Castiel asks him to order the same for him. He mentions mozzarella sticks with enthusiasm, so Castiel tells him to add those to their order as well, and then they continue watching TV until it shows up. 

Dean puts their food in the oven to keep warm while they demolish their appetizer, then they sit side-by-side in front of the TV as they work on their meals. His inner alpha wants to keep Dean close, so he’s pleased by how surprisingly easy it is to share space with Dean. Dean must feel the same considering he keeps stealing fries off of Castiel’s plate even though he has perfectly good fries of his own. Castiel doesn’t say anything about it because he would gladly give up his entire meal to Dean if he wanted it (though he’s thankful he doesn’t have to, because it really is quite good). 

They make it through another episode once they’re both finished eating, which is when Dean turns his head to look over at him suddenly. “I’m bored.”

Castiel blinks. “Oh.” He isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to do about this. He’s not exactly used to entertaining people, and certainly not during his rut when he knows he won’t be able to stand much space between them. “Do you want to watch something else?”

“I want to do something other than fuck, sleep, and watch TV.”

Although it kills him to say it, he says, “You’re not imprisoned inside the house. If you want to go somewhere and do something, you’re free to.”

Dean lights up at the suggestion, and Castiel has to concentrate to keep a straight face when it seems that Dean’s eager to leave his side when Castiel can hardly stand the thought. Dean’s not his omega, Castiel reminds himself. Dean _should_ feel free to do whatever he wants to do, and Castiel needs to find a way to be okay with that even if his inner alpha hates it. He will not allow himself to be ruled by some archaic instinct when Dean has been so good to him. 

“Wanna go swimming?”

That will wash away some of their scents, but it’s a million times better than Dean leaving the house, and Dean asked him if he wanted to go, too, which means Dean’s not trying to get away from him. Although, he has to admit he wouldn’t have said no to something that inspired such a fresh burst of Dean’s pine scent into the air even if it did mean he’d be left alone and suffering. He suspects he’ll be unable to say no to Dean for the entirety of the time he’ll be lucky enough to spend with him, but he’s actually very okay with that. Dean deserves everything he desires. 

With that thought in mind, Castiel answers, “I would love to.”

“Yes!” Dean surges to his feet and Castiel’s whole body tenses to spring after him, but Dean stops before he takes a step. “If I knew it wouldn’t end up with me getting knotted in the pool I’d make a mad dash for it right now and say the last one in’s a rotten egg,” Dean says with a grin. Castiel laughs, because Dean has no idea how close he was. “Come on though, I’m excited.”

Castiel is happy to stand and lead the way to the patio door in the corner beside the TV. He grabs two towels from the cabinet once they’re outside, which is when it occurs to him that they don’t have bathing suits on. He’s about to say as much to Dean when he turns just in time to see a flash of his bare ass as he cannonballs into the pool completely naked.

He supposes that answers that.

He’s never swum out here naked before, but it seems there’s a first time for anything. 

Dean breaks the surface suddenly with a loud _whoop,_ shaking his head to get the water out of his face, and he has such a huge, unguarded smile on his face when his eyes meet Castiel’s that Castiel would be helpless to resist him even if he wanted to. Which no part of him does. So, for the first time in his entire life outside, he drops his pants where he stands. He turns to walk towards the walk-in entrance to the pool, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean turn his back, and the opportunity is just too good to turn down.

He spins on his heel and cannonballs in right next to Dean, hoping to catch him off guard with his splash. He knows he’s succeeded before he’s able to surface because he gets a shove to his shoulder that has him smiling when he comes up for air. He swipes the water out of his face and faces Dean, smiling unapologetically.

“That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Dean asks him, beginning to circle him in the water.

Castiel shrugs and spins to keep Dean in his sight. “The opportunity presented itself.”

Thankfully, Dean seems pleased by the turn of events, and his open smile is like food for his soul. “Gotta tell you, Cas, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I _am_ Gabriel’s little brother,” Castiel replies. 

“Maybe he rubbed off on you a little after all.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled,” Castiel deadpans.

Dean laughs, all smiles and easy confidence, and Castiel can’t help it. He’s absolutely enchanted. He reaches out to put his hands on Dean’s bare hips. Thankfully Dean’s smile doesn’t fall this time, and he allows himself to be pulled in. Castiel can only catch the faintest hint of their combined scents through the chlorine and other chemicals in the pool, and it rubs him the wrong way immediately. 

“What?” Dean asks. Castiel flicks his eyes up from where they were on his neck up to his face. “You were looking at me like people look at shit on the bottom of their shoes.”

“Sorry,” Castiel says. “I was just thinking what a pity it is that I can hardly smell you out here.” 

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, openly scenting the air. “Sorta nice to take that out of the equation for a minute, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” Dean shrugs, but Castiel gets the feeling Dean does know and he just doesn’t want to say. He decides to wait him out, and it only takes a few seconds for Dean to ask, “Don’t you think the constant loop of alpha/omega hormones is starting to get to you?”

“How?” Castiel wonders.

“Like you growling all the damn time.”

Castiel feels his face heating up as the reality of what Dean just said sinks in. He has been growling a lot. In fact, now that Dean’s mentioned it, he’s sure he’s growled more in the last twenty-four hours than he has in his entire life. 

“Thought so,” Dean says smugly. 

“I’ve um,” Castiel starts, feeling increasingly shy all of the sudden. “I don’t think I’ve ever growled without meaning to before I did at Patience.”

Dean hits him with a lopsided grin. “I remember that.”

“No,” Castiel corrects. “It was before. When I was watching.”

Dean’s grin grows into something much more cocky, and unfortunately for Castiel, endlessly sexy. “Jealous before you ever even got a hand on me, huh?”

“I was,” Castiel admits. “Some of them were so rough and uncaring, acting like getting close enough to be able to touch you isn’t the divine privilege that it is.”

Dean tilts his head to the side and Castiel takes the invitation for what it is and lowers his mouth to his neck to get a good strong whiff. It seems it doesn’t matter how frequently the scent of Dean’s forest-fresh aroma hits him, he’s never not going to feel weak in the knees from it.

“Not everybody thinks that, you know,” Dean says.

Distracted by Dean’s scent, he replies, “Thinks what?”

“Whatever shit you just said. That it’s a divine privilege to be able to touch me or whatever.”

“Then they’re imbeciles,” Castiel replies. “Absolutely moronic for not knowing perfection when they had it staring them straight in the face.”

Pine hits his senses again, and he’s sure his own scent bursts with happiness too, because now he knows without a doubt that praise coming from him makes Dean happy. At the same moment he makes this realization, Dean pushes him away with a gentle hand to his chest.

“Alright Romeo, simmer down.”

Castiel lets his hands fall from Dean’s hips. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Dean says quickly. He looks over his shoulder, then back to Cas. “If I wanna actually swim, is that gonna make you chase me?”  
  
Without Dean’s scent frying his brain and his skin cooled down from the water, he feels fairly in control for the time being. “No, I think I’m in control.”

“Just in case, I got two more rules for water sex,” Dean says. “One, don’t let me drown just to fuck me.”

“I would _nev—”_

“And two,” Dean says, talking over his objection about how he would never let anything happen to Dean. “No knotting me in the pool. There’s no way I’m gonna float around in here for forty-five minutes with your dick in my ass.”

Despite his embarrassment, he laughs at the mental image that inspires. “I did have plans to drown you while we were out here, but since it’s your body, I suppose what you say goes.”

Dean cracks a smile at his poor attempt at a joke. “Good thing I said something, huh?”

And then with a cheeky wink, he dunks himself under the water and swims away.

Watching Dean put space between them with his back to him does have the urge to chase itching beneath his skin, but thankfully, he can control it. Would it be satisfying to cut through the water with steady strides until he caught up to Dean—thus proving his strength and speed and that he would be the ideal mate for him—and fucked him up against the side of the pool? Without a doubt. But that’s not what Dean needs right now. Dean needs to stretch his legs, so to speak, and Castiel is more than happy to let him do that. 

In fact, he swims across the pool to lean against the side, letting his arms stretch out on the pool deck on either side of him so he can kick his feet while he watches Dean play in the water. It seems like a juvenile word to use, but really, there can be no other description for what Dean’s doing besides playing. He’s swimming the length of the pool switching between poorly executed strides of the dog paddle and the frog swim, which would be fine, except he’s also making the animal sounds that go with them. Even more amusing is that Dean seems to think his own actions are hilarious, and so Dean’s laugh randomly breaks through the strings of animal sounds, and it’s far more endearing than Castiel has the will to resist. 

He’s never been able to find the humor in this kind of thing before, but Castiel hears himself laughing along even though Dean’s being utterly ridiculous, and when Dean catches his eye and smiles encouragingly at him, he thinks about how happy Dean seemed when he gave into his own childish side to splash him earlier. 

If you can’t beat them, join them, right?

He swims up next to Dean, then begins swimming in the only other animal-like way he knows how, making a whooshing sound with his mouth to go with each forward stroke.

Dean watches him curiously for several seconds before he finally says, “What’s with the sound effect, dude?”

Castiel’s gaze flicks down to where he’s in perfect formation and explains, “I’m doing the butterfly.”

Dean’s face is blank for about three seconds, but then his smile grows, he snickers, and then he suddenly starts laughing hard enough that he has to stop swimming. He braces his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and laughs so hard the sound stops, and as he throws his head back with the force of it, Castiel feels his heart swell to such a massive size that the reality of the situation is much, much too big to deny. 

That’s the moment he realizes that he—the sensible, even-tempered, always-logical, unalpha-like alpha—has started falling in love with a mouthy, sassy, intelligent, endlessly beautiful and absolutely _perfect_ omega in a matter of days.

What in the world is he supposed to do about that?


	7. Chapter 7

Thankfully, Dean is having the time of his life out here. Enough so that even though Castiel is struggling with talking himself out of the insane revelation he just had, Dean is completely oblivious. He’s also an excellent distraction. One that Castiel is happy to use to his advantage, and so he finds himself drawn into several pool games with Dean.

They do cannonball competitions (the waves in the pool determine Dean wins), compete to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest (he wins), who can do the best handstand underwater (Dean), and race from end-to-end of the pool. He comes away victorious there, and when he sees the look of awe on Dean’s face as he surfaces several strokes ahead of Dean, he feels his chest puff out with pride.

Dean doesn’t miss it, it seems, and he uses it as an opportunity to tease him. “Such a big, strong, fast alpha.” Because he doesn’t have a good excuse for his stereotypical alpha-like behavior, Castiel splashes him, which makes Dean laugh as he spits water out of his mouth. “So sensitive,” Dean sasses.

“I happen to be a good swimmer.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, clearly amused. He leans back against the side of the pool, tilting his head back onto the pool deck and looking straight up at the sky. “Hell of a day, huh?”

Castiel couldn’t look away from the way Dean’s freckles stand out from the sun if he was paid to. “It’s beautiful,” he says, thinking more of Dean than the weather.

“I gotta get a pool at my next place. This is awesome.”

“Feel free to use it as often as you’d like while you’re here. I don’t take advantage of it as much as I should.”

“You work too hard,” Dean says, chastising him lightly.

“It fills the time,” Castiel responds.

Dean turns to face him, and he sees the second Dean notices he’s been looking at him instead of the sky. A hint of embarrassment flickers over his face, but he schools it quickly into a smirk that Castiel can see for the first time isn’t entirely genuine. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

He wonders if Dean always uses a sexy smile like this to try to hide from his true feelings, and makes a mental note to think about that the next time he sees it instead of how that particular smile inspires most of his blood to rush down between his legs. 

“I was admiring the way the sun’s bringing out your freckles,” Castiel says.

“Oh my god,” Dean complains, rolling his eyes and straightening up again. “I’ll take the growling back over the sappy shit.”

“I would have thought you’d be used to constant admiration,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, but it usually sounds a hell of a lot more like, ‘Look at those pretty, cock-sucking lips,’” Dean says. “Not some sappy shit about my freckles.”

“You do have pretty lips,” Castiel jokes. Dean shakes his head, like he’s a mixture of ashamed and amused, and Castiel continues, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He gets a splash to the face for that, and has to wipe the water out of his eyes before he can aim a glare back at Dean. “Was that really necessary?”

Dean splashes him again.

Again, he wipes the water out of his eyes and pins him with a look, which falters when he sees the size of the smile on Dean’s face. “You’re a brat.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be good.” Dean dives under the water, but as he begins to swim away, he kicks his feet close to the surface so that Castiel gets splashed with another face-full of water.

Because he gets the feeling Dean _wants him_ to retaliate, he kicks off of the side of the pool and swims after him. He’s a much stronger swimmer than Dean, so it’s easy to catch up and wrap one arm around his middle to haul him up to the surface. Dean doesn’t come the rest of the way without a fight, though. He wriggles and twists and turns, splashing Castiel at every opportunity and laughing the whole time until Castiel _finally_ manages to pin the slippery man to the wall of the pool. 

Dean goes limp with a dramatic sigh, finally giving into the reality that he’s been overpowered, and Castiel feels an instinctive need to put a claim on him again. He takes several deep breaths trying to fight the urge, trying to think with his brain instead of his body. This chase was meant to be in fun, not some ridiculous, archaic alpha/omega mating ritual, and he’s not going to ruin Dean’s good mood by losing control of himself now. Not even if Dean’s ass is bumping against his slowly filling cock with each wave that rocks their bodies. He can do this.

“Guess you caught me.”

Those words should absolutely not send arousal coursing through him. He’s not some kind of animal. “You put up an admirable fight,” Castiel says.

“Wanted to see if you could really pin me.”

Castiel presses forward, gently pinning Dean more fully against the pool with the side of his hip, carefully keeping his growing erection from brushing against Dean. “Curiosity satisfied?” Castiel asks.

“Not really.”

He _caught_ Dean fair and square. There should be no doubt about his ability, his athleticism, his alpha strength. “Why not?”

“First time I let somebody chase me and it didn’t end with my ass getting pounded as the grand prize.”

Castiel shifts so that his erection presses against Dean’s backside and slides between his cheeks, which he’s intensely satisfied to find are already slippery with slick. “We can fix that if you’d like.”

“You waiting for a written invitation?”

Castiel drops his nose to the curve where Dean’s neck meets his shoulder and breathes in deep. Dean’s bonfire scent tells him that Dean wants him again, that his body would open up and welcome him inside as effortlessly as Dean’s able to breathe, but that’s not what Dean said inside. “You said you wanted to do something other than fuck. I wanted to respect your wishes.”

Dean turns in his arms and slides his hands up Castiel’s chest to circle around his neck. “You’re a good alpha,” Dean says quietly. Almost seductively. He pulls Castiel in close enough so that Castiel can feel Dean’s hardness colliding with his own, and the rhythmic sound of the water slapping against their bodies and the side of the pool is interrupted with the catch in Castiel’s breathing. “But I knew what happened when I kicked away from you. I wanted you to catch me.” He leans in so that his breath is ghosting over Castiel’s lips. “Claim me.”

Castiel catches Dean’s lips in a searing kiss. Dean kicks his feet out so that his legs are wrapped around Castiel’s waist, and the very first forward thrust has his cock sinking halfway into Dean’s waiting hole. He didn’t expect to line up so perfectly that he’d slide home his first try, and the sensation of Dean’s warm insides surrounding him so quickly has his breath shuddering out of him.

“Yeah,” Dean says, his lips still pressed to Castiel’s as he nods his head to encourage him. “More, Cas.”

Castiel obliges, pushing into him the rest of the way until he’s completely sheathed in Dean’s frankly perfect backside. He doesn’t wait for Dean to get used to the sensation, knows he doesn’t have to after how many times they’ve had sex today, he just starts giving Dean the kind of pounding he asked for. He snaps his hips forward in rapid succession, thrusting fast but deep. He knows just what Dean’s craving and he doesn’t hesitate to give it to him now, not after Castiel caught him and Dean asked to be claimed. He’ll claim him alright. He’ll fuck Dean so hard, fill him up so good that he won’t want anybody else. He’ll want to _really_ belong to him, be his omega, be his mate, carry his children.

That thought inspires him to pull out all the way and slam back in, over and over, grinding up into Dean’s prostate exactly the way he seems to like. He’s rewarded with a low groan, fingernails clawing at his back, and Dean’s teeth scraping along his lower lip. He surges forward to kiss him properly, thrusting his tongue into Dean’s mouth in an imitation of exactly how he’s fucking him. Dean holds on for dear life and takes it so well, so perfectly, breaking the seal of their lips just to journey along Castiel’s neck and mouth at his scent gland. 

Dean’s lips there of all places when Castiel is already buried so deep has him speaking without thinking, gasping, “My omega.”

Dean hums, his voice so low his lips vibrate against his skin. Castiel damn near whimpers when Dean’s lips move away, peppering kisses up towards his ear, which is when he traces Castiel’s earlobe with the tip of his tongue. A full body shiver wracks him, and that’s _before_ Dean whispers, “Can I mark you?”

_“Yes.”_

Dean’s mouth finds his scent gland—his mating gland—between one breath and the next, and then he’s latching on, sucking his skin into his mouth and flicking his tongue along the sensitive patch of flesh. He can almost feel the blood rise to the surface, and knowing that his omega wants to put a mark on him, to claim him so everybody else knows not to get too close has his inner alpha _beaming_ with pride... and his knot swelling so big so fast he has to grit his teeth against the onslaught of pleasure.

More determined than ever to make this good for Dean, he slips one hand between them to circle around his cock. Dean bucks up into his hand and he starts to stroke him in a counter rhythm to the pistoning of his hips, wanting each second between his powerful thrusts to be filled with pleasure for Dean, too. The second Dean’s lips break away from his skin, he nudges Dean’s head to the side and scents along Dean’s neck, stimulating his scent gland and sending a fresh wave of roasted marshmallow into the air. 

Their combined scents send him into a frenzy, and his every thought narrows down to the sensation of Dean wrapped around him, Dean’s bowlegs clinging to Castiel’s hips, his fat cock splitting Dean open with one vigorous thrust after the next. He pounds into Dean over and over as Dean continues clawing at his back and calling his name. Somehow, their mouths come back together in a flurry of tongues stroking and sliding together, lips smooching and sucking, and teeth clacking and scraping and driving each other closer and closer to their mounting climaxes.

His knot presses insistently at Dean’s rim, slipping inside of him a little bit deeper each time he grinds up into it, and fuck, he’s close already. He’s going too fast, too hard, and it’s way too fucking good to even think of stopping, so he doesn’t.

His every instinct is urging him to fuck Dean a little bit harder, to push his knot past his rim and feel the indescribable pressure of Dean’s insides stimulating his knot the way he knows he needs in order to really come. He’s still in control, though, and he remembers what Dean said about no knotting, so he grinds his fat knot against his softening rim instead, wanting so badly to be tied to Dean, to his omega, but needing to be a good alpha for him even more than that.

Dean’s bonfire scent flares hot in the space between them, he chokes out a breathless, “C-Cas,” and Castiel feels Dean’s cock swell in his hand before his eyes slam closed and he comes with a groan.

Castiel thrusts through the clenching of Dean’s insides, chasing his orgasm now with a single-minded focus until he, too, comes with a low sound of pleasure. It’s not nearly as explosive as the last few have been because his knot isn’t up inside that slick cavern, but he’s still coming inside of Dean with Dean’s scent in his nose and Dean's muscular chest pressed against his, and it’s still good. Amazingly good.

Which is why he damn near _yelps_ when Dean closes both hands around his knot and squeezes, instantly milking another massive load of cum and a second shuddering orgasm out of him only seconds after his first. He curses breathlessly as he comes down, dropping his head to Dean’s shoulder and tucking his nose up along his neck to breathe him in. 

“Gotta say, as much as I appreciate the restraint, it’s just not the same without your knot, alpha,” Dean admits quietly.

Castiel agrees with a hum, but doesn’t allow his mind to wander to how much more satisfying this would feel if he was completely sheathed inside of Dean the way he’s meant to be. Dean keeps the pressure of his hands wound tightly around his cock for long enough that Castiel is able to coat Dean’s neck and scent gland with layer after layer of his own scent, and by the time Dean releases his knot, their scents are so entirely mingled despite the chlorine of the pool, Castiel feels absolutely satisfied. 

Even if his knot hasn’t gone all the way down yet.

When he starts to shift away, he realizes for the first time that the sun has started to go down and they’re no longer bathed in sunlight. That might explain the chill to Dean’s skin where they aren’t touching, and Castiel runs his hands down Dean’s arms as soon as he notices. 

“You’re cold,” he comments.

“Just a little.”

“You should have said, I could’ve brought you inside sooner.”

“Don’t you know me at all by now?” Dean asks. “I would’ve bitched if I was too cold.”

Dean surprises him by leaning in to meet his lips with a quick peck, and while Dean’s smiling when he initially pulls away, he barely gets six inches between their faces before his expression falls and his face turns the most endearing shade of pink he’s ever seen in his life.

Partly because he can’t resist and partly because he wants Dean to know any and all affection is welcome, he reaches out to catch Dean by the hand. He tugs him back in to lay a sweet, tender kiss to his plush lips, and although Dean’s still blushing when they pull apart, he catches a glimpse of his smile before he dives under the water and swims towards the ladder. 

Watching Dean climb out of the pool completely naked with water dripping down his muscular body and amazing ass is a sight to behold, and even though he knows Dean knows he’s watching him, he doesn’t look away even as he swims over to get out himself. Dean’s got a towel around his shoulders by the time Castiel climbs out, and Dean hits him with a smile a split second before he hits him with a towel.

Castiel’s eyes close automatically as the towel collides with his face, and Dean’s laughter rings in his ears as he grabs the towel and uses it to dry his hair. “You’re lucky you smell good.”

Dean chuckles heartily. “Or what?”

“Or else I’d throw you back in the pool,” Castiel lies.

“Yeah right,” Dean scoffs. “All I gotta do is bat my eyelashes at you and you’d let me go in a heartbeat.”

Thankfully Dean can’t see his face under the towel or else he’d see his blush and how it gives him away. Although, it doesn’t seem to matter considering it sounds like Dean has his number anyway. “You must know what you look like when you do that.”

Dean laughs again and says, “Believe me, I’ve had it down to a science for years.”

“Believe _me,”_ Castiel says, wiping down his face before looking at Dean. “I’m well aware.”

Dean grins without apology and nods his head towards the door. “Let’s go inside before I freeze my ass off.”  
  
“That _would_ be a tragedy.”

Dean snorts another laugh, and Castiel’s feeling pretty good about how things are going between them as the end of the day approaches. He could barely look at Dean and string a sentence together at the same time this morning, and now he’s commenting on the perfection of Dean’s ass. He supposes that kind of thing is bound to happen when two people spend the entire day having sex, but it’s not like he had the time to think that through before Dean was throwing himself at him.

“Cas?”

“Sorry,” Castiel says quickly. “What?”

“How’s your rut? You’re starting to seem more like your dorky self.” _Dorky?_ “And that ain’t an insult, so don’t overthink it.”

“I, uhm, think it’s winding down, yes.”

“Yeah?” Dean checks. Castiel nods his reassurance, and Dean says, “So would it be cool if I showered the chlorine off before we jump back in bed?”

He just told Dean he’s feeling okay and Dean wants to jump in bed? Did he not satisfy him enough today? “You want to have sex again?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “I’m not against it if you need to, but I was thinking more about sleep. I’m fucking beat.”

 _Oh._ “You want to sleep in my room?”

Dean lifts his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize I had a choice.”

“You’ve always had a choice,” Castiel says, his frown deepening. “You don’t have to stay in my room tonight if you don’t want to.”

“I thought you said alphas liked to keep their omegas close by in a rut?”

“Let me make myself clear,” Castiel says. “I would love to have you in my bed all night long, but if you would rather sleep in your own bed, I’d be—” He means to say fine, but the word gets stuck in his throat. The idea of his fresh sheets no longer smelling like Dean, of not having Dean tucked up nice and close to him where he’s supposed to be stops him in his tracks.

“Called it,” Dean says brightly. “Shower okay though?”

“Yes,” Castiel says firmly. “I’m sorry. I really would be, well, I’d survive if you didn’t want to—”

“Cas,” Dean interrupts. “I got you, okay?” When Castiel nods, Dean shoots him a finger gun before disappearing up the stairs to shower. 

He gets to sleep with Dean in his bed tonight. 

His inner alpha reeks of smug satisfaction while he tidies up downstairs, and if he has a slight spring to his step when he goes up to bed for the night, nobody’s there to see it but him.

What the hell’s the matter with him? 

He was starting to freak himself out with how coupley he’d let himself act with Cas on the couch before they went out in the pool, then not only did he pretty much seduce Cas into having sex _again,_ he forgot himself and kissed Cas afterwards like they were really together instead of just fucking. _And then,_ instead of putting space between them like any logical person with a working brain would do, Dean went and invited himself to sleep in Cas’s bed tonight. Because that definitely won’t make things any more complicated than they already are. 

Solid idea, Dean. 

He swipes his hand through the condensation on the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, hoping a stern internal talking to might help him get his shit together before he goes to spend the night with Cas. Unfortunately, all it does is widen his eyes when he gets a glimpse of the state of his neck.

The bite on his mating gland is _covered_ in bruises—some dark purple, some already fading to a sickly looking yellow, some big and painful-looking, and some so small and light he has to lean in closer to make sure that’s what they really are. It’s not like he didn’t know Cas has been latched onto his neck every time they fuck, but knowing and seeing are apparently two very different things, because this is... this is intense. Some of these bruises are gonna be there for days.

He pushes down the instinctual pride blooming inside of him with an exasperated shake of his head. He doesn’t like to give into his omega side, but there’s no sense denying to himself that it’s sorta nice that there’s a good alpha like Cas out there who wants to leave his mark all over him. He knows it’s only because Cas is giving into the rut and all the hormones that come with it and that Cas would react the same way with any omega, but that doesn’t change how he feels about it. He could do a hell of a lot worse than Cas, and his inner omega damn well knows it. 

Deciding to let all of that go to try to figure it out tomorrow when he’s not attached to Cas at the hip, he spits the toothpaste out into the sink, rinses, and drops his towel to put on a fresh pair of boxers. He figures there’s no use putting pajamas on since he’s pretty sure Cas is gonna want to get as much of his scent all over the bed as possible, and there’s a good chance that will lead to having sex at least once more either overnight or before bed. With that thought in mind, he strolls confidently down the hall towards Cas’s room, feeling fresh and invigorated.

He can hear the shower running in the ensuite once he steps inside Cas’s bedroom, and even though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, he pokes his head in the crack of the door and asks, “Hey Cas? Is it cool if I wait in your bed ‘til you’re done?”

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”

That said, he flops onto the bed, and as his head hits one of the two pillows, a waft of Castiel-scented air hits his nose. He closes his eyes and drinks it in, luxuriating in the buttery pastry scent of Cas. He’s been within arms reach of the dude all day long, and still, breathing in his scent again now is like coming home. It’s unlike anything else he’s ever experienced, not only because of just how good it is, but also because he doesn’t seem to be able to get used to it. It doesn’t matter how often he smells it, it’s just as phenomenal every single time as it was the very first time, and it makes it all the more alluring.

With Cas’s pillow smelling like a bakery, he’s content to just lie there and wait for Cas to come out of the shower. When he does only a few minutes later, he’s also only wearing boxers. Cas looks a little embarrassed about it, which is hilarious after how many times they’ve gotten naked today. Curiously, Cas also seems to be avoiding looking at him while he carries two glasses of water to the nightstand, so it isn’t until he turns to get into bed that Dean sees _Cas’s neck_ has a few noteworthy bruises on it, too.

He swallows hard, trying to reconcile what he sees with how he feels. When it comes to Cas marking him, he can brush it off as Cas’s rut being in control, but what’s his excuse? Not only for marking Cas, but for asking to be marked by Cas, too. Yeah, sex with Cas is fucking unbelievable and Cas’s scent makes his brain stop working and his omega instincts rise to the surface more than anything he’s ever felt before, but it’s not like he’s powerless to resist them. He just... keeps choosing to. 

What the hell’s that all about?

Again, he decides to let it go to worry about it later. He’s in bed with a hot as fuck alpha in a rut, and he should be taking advantage of it. 

“Looks like we both went a couple of rounds with a vampire, huh?” Dean quips to break the ice.

“A vampire? Oh,” Cas says, obviously catching on a second later. He rolls over onto his side to prop himself up on his elbow and looks down at Dean, his eyes spanning the side of his throat. “I didn’t realize I had gotten quite so carried away.”

“Yeah, me neither. They’ll fade though.” And then he’ll just have his mating bite left, which probably shouldn’t be reassuring but absolutely is. Breezing past that, he adds, “And until then, there’s make—”

“I’m sorry, can I scent you?” Cas asks, sounding rather urgent all of the sudden.

It takes him a second to catch up, but then he answers, “Yeah.”

Cas is on him in an instant, rubbing his nose along the column of his throat before switching to his cheek. The scrape of his facial hair and the mingling of their scents is extremely pleasant, and without meaning to, a happy little sound escapes him. Cas nuzzles into the space behind his ear, dropping a chaste kiss there that still has goosebumps popping up all over him, and it’s fucking ridiculous how much he wants to kiss him right now. 

He doesn’t, but only because he remembers how embarrassed he was the last time he did it. Instead, he pushes Cas’s damp hair off of his forehead like it was tickling him just to have an excuse to touch him. “How’re you feelin’?” he wonders.

“Better now that you smell like me again,” Cas says, sounding relieved and more like himself. “But also exceedingly tired for how much I slept today.”

“Do you always pass out after sex, or is it just a rut thing?”

“I don’t usually, no,” Cas replies. His big hand curls around Dean’s hip like it’s meant to fit there, and Dean feels something come loose in his chest. “Although, I’ve never had sex in a rut before so maybe the two are connected and I just didn’t know until today.”

“And your rut usually only lasts a day, right?”

“Yes. It started about six this morning so I expect by the time we wake up in the morning, I’ll be back to my regular self and then we can go back to going our own separate ways.”

“Right.” He can feel rejection seeping into him and he tries to change the subject before Cas can comment on his scent souring. “I usually meet up with my little brother on Thursdays for dinner, so the timing works out well.”

Cas keeps right on nuzzling his scent gland through asking, “How old is your brother?”

“Sammy’s nineteen. In school for law right now,” he brags.

“Wow, that’s a big undertaking.”

“Yeah. Kid’s a genius though. He got the brains, and I got the looks,” he says with a smile. He’s been saying the same thing for so long he barely even notices the way he feels empty inside every time he says it.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You’re obviously gorgeous, but you seem fairly bright, as well.”

That... might be the first time anybody but Sam has disagreed with him on that. He isn’t sure what to say at first, but then he comes up with a joke. “I _did_ pass my GED with flying colors.”

“No college or university for you?” Cas asks, as if he’s surprised by that.

“They don’t exactly teach you how to slick at a chalkboard,” Dean says. “I don’t need school for what I do.”

Cas pulls back to search his eyes for a few seconds, then he offers, “Well, it sounds like you were happier than most at your old job, so hopefully the new one pans out just as well for you.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “I was hoping to do a little something every day for the first week to try to draw in viewers, but I don’t know if I’ll still be able to get it up by tomorrow,” he laughs.

Cas’s eyes go sad. “I know this must have been rough on your body. I’m sorry for that.”

“I mean, yeah,” Dean says, not wanting to lie. “But I’m sure as fuck not complaining, even if my ass is starting to get a little sore thanks to the pool sex.”

“You’re sore?” Castiel questions. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would have been more gentle!”

“I just did say something, dude. Breathe,” Dean says quickly. “Slick just doesn’t work as lube as well in the water, that’s all. I was fine every time before that. I think it’s all the orgasms that’re really takin’ it out of me, though. I don’t know how you guys do it with multiple orgasms every time you knot somebody.”

“Now you understand the napping,” Cas jokes.

He grins nice and wide, then gives into the urge to move a little closer until he can pillow his head on Cas’s bicep. “You’re actually sorta funny when you’re not focusing all your brain power on not popping a boner. I didn’t expect that.”

“Me neither,” Cas says, honestly enough that he knows Cas meant it. That only makes him laugh again, and Cas rolls onto his back, dragging Dean in with an arm around him until he’s got Dean’s head in the nook of his shoulder. “I think it must just be the company, because I’m sure I’ve never been called funny a day in my life.”

“Your friends must think you’re funny.”

“My friends?” Cas repeats.

“Yeah, you know. The people you hang out with for fun?”

There’s a beat of silence, then Castiel says, “Right. Well, if they do, I’ve certainly never heard about it.”

“Are you always trying not to get boners around them, too?” Dean quips.

Cas pokes him in the ribs, and Dean’s laughter is interrupted by a sudden burst of apple in Cas’s scent. He tucks his face up into the bend of his neck and breathes it in, thinking to himself that Cas’s happy scent is almost as irresistible as the cinnamon arousal. 

“My favorite food’s pie, y’know,” Dean confesses.

“Is it?” Cas asks. 

“Mhmm.” He breathes him in again, transfixed by the combination of buttery pastry and tart apple. “I always thought pecan pie was my favorite, but you might have me changing my mind to apple.”

Cas’s big hand rubs up and down his back, and Dean lets his eyes remain closed as he sinks into the familiar touch and amazing smell. “I work so much that I spend almost every minute of every day cooped up inside,” Cas says, which is kinda out of nowhere, but he’s willing to go with it. “With air conditioning inside and in the car, I hardly ever get a breath of fresh air anymore. You reminded me what I was missing.”

“My scent?” 

“Yes. You smell like the outdoors. Like a deep breath of crisp air. Like the top of the mountain with a whole forest full of pine trees behind you, dripping with fresh raindrops drying in the sun. You smell like adventure and happiness and ma—” _Mate._ Cas was going to say mate. “Maple.”

“Maple?” Dean repeats incredulously.

“...sometimes,” Cas lies. 

But he lies _so badly_ it makes Dean huff another laugh. “Really?” he asks dryly.

“Do you want some water before bed?” Cas asks, sitting up suddenly and dislodging Dean from his happy place in the process.

Cas is very obviously not looking at him, his shoulders are way too straight for it to be natural, and he can see his ears are red even though he’s looking at the back of his head. All of it is so god damn endearing that he doesn’t even know what to do with himself except call Cas out for it. “Holy shit, you’re literally the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

Cas takes a drink from his cup, then sets the cup down and finally faces him. “Do you want some?”

“Do I smell like maple?” Cas drops his gaze immediately to look down at his lap, and Dean can’t help it, he laughs again. “You’re _adorable.”_

“Shut up,” Cas says, petulant.

Unfortunately for Cas, that’s even more cute, and now he’s pretty much obligated to make fun of him for it. “Awww, look at the big, bad alpha,” he says, using baby talk to really rub it in. “All embarrassed because he’s just so cute.”

“I’m not _cute.”_

“Sorry, Cas, but I’m gonna have to disagree.”

“Alphas can’t be cute,” Cas insists.

Dean reaches out to smoosh Cas’s cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “Just look at you.”

Cas rolls his eyes and knocks his hand away, then scooches down in the bed until he’s lying next to Dean again. He watches Cas close his eyes and breathe in deep, and he can almost see the way he melts into the bed. “I guess if making fun of me makes you smell this happy, I’ll allow it.” When Cas opens his eyes again, he’s smiling so softly at him it feels like it stops his heart in his chest. Something must show on his face, because Cas reaches out and cups his jaw, his thumb sweeping gently back and forth along his cheek bone. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, and he’s surprised to find he actually means it. Yeah, this thing between him and Cas seems like it might’ve changed a little from plain attraction to having some affection mixed up in there, but it’s sorta nice so long as he doesn’t overthink it. “You ready for bed?”

“I am pretty tired,” Cas says.

“Well, roll over then.” Cas rolls over facing him, and Dean laughs. “No, dude. I’m bigger than you. I’m being the big spoon.”

Cas frowns. “But I wanted to hold you.”

After _everything_ they’ve done to each other today, _that’s_ the thing that makes his cheeks heat up. “You snore, man.”

Cas’s jaw drops like he’s genuinely insulted. “I don’t snore!”

“I literally heard you.”

Cas opens his mouth like he’s going to argue again, but then seems to decide to change tactics. “Can we compromise?”

There is no way in hell he’s sleeping with Cas snoring in his ear, but he says, “I’m listening.”

“I realize this may be slightly outside of our agreed upon arrangement...”

“But?” Dean prompts him when it seems like he isn’t going to keep going.

“Can I kiss you again before we go to sleep?”

He came in here expecting sex before bed, so it’s not like a kiss is gonna kill him. Plus, he gets his way with the sleeping arrangements this way too. He nods, and Cas moves in without hesitation. Cas’s hand on his face holds him in place while Cas presses his lips to Dean’s. His eyelashes hit his cheek as his eyes close, and just like that, all he’s aware of is _Cas._ Cas’s scent, Cas’s lips on his, Cas’s hand warm on his face, Cas’s thumb grazing along his cheek like he’s something special, something cherished. 

His lips part to let Cas in, and the first gentle caress of Cas’s tongue against his has his insides going fucking wild. It feels like butterflies explode in his stomach, his heart seems like it’s doing back flips in his chest, and his brain is short circuiting all at the same time. He can’t think, he can’t fucking breathe, and for what feels like the first time in his entire god damn life, his carefully honed control slips between his finger tips.

He’s finally completely and utterly helpless against giving into the pull every damn part of him feels towards Cas, and for some reason, the only thing he _can_ do is kiss Cas back.

He slots his tongue alongside Cas’s and hears his breath catch, feels the slight scratch of Cas’s facial hair on his own upper lip, smells the hints of cinnamon adding to the already heavenly scent in the air, and grips Cas’s arm to wrap his fingers around his bicep. He releases the quiet sound of contentment he feels building up inside of him when Cas keeps kissing him so fucking tenderly, but fights the mounting urge to whisper a confession that nobody’s ever kissed him like this before. Nobody’s made him want to bare his neck or ask for a mark, and nobody’s ever made him feel like he can see the shape of the missing piece of himself he never knew he was missing until Cas.

The overwhelming sense of _mine_ is so fucking absolute that he whimpers into Cas’s mouth again, his fingers tighten on Cas’s arm, and Cas kisses him more firmly. Cas tilts his head just right, licking into his mouth expertly and making Dean chase him for more, for their bare chests pressed together, their legs tangled, for his hand slipping up and into Cas’s wild hair. _Goddamn,_ he wants him. He wants Cas so fucking bad still. He wants Cas even closer, in him, over him and under him and part of him until they’re so lost in each other they can never be separated.

His lips pull away from Cas with a loud smacking sound when he realizes what he really wants and has been too chickenshit to admit to himself until now. 

He wants _Cas._ Not just for today, but for tomorrow, too, and maybe the day after that.

Cas’s thumb brushes over his bottom lip. “Are you okay?”

A small part of him feels smug when he hears how rough Cas’s voice is and how he’s breathing so much harder than he was before they kissed, but when he forces himself to meet Cas’s eyes, he sees the concern and frankly, a staggering amount of warmth in there, too, and it sobers him up immediately. 

Cas likes him back, he knows he does. 

And for some reason that’s a hell of a lot scarier than if Cas didn’t, because that means if Dean wants this—wants to give dating or a relationship or something other than fucking or friendship with Cas a shot—the only thing holding him back is himself. 

“You do one hell of a goodnight kiss,” Dean finally says.

“We established you have very pretty lips earlier,” Cas jokes, and Dean’s mouth curves into a smile because he can see the laughter dancing in Cas’s eyes. 

It disarms him enough to admit the thought he was barely keeping suppressed before. “Nobody’s ever kissed me like you.” 

Cas seems surprised by that for a second, but then that same softness Dean was so taken aback by a moment ago is back and all he says is one simple word. “Good.” Then Cas surprises him a second time and stretches his neck out to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, Dean. Thank you for today.”

“Anytime,” Dean hears himself saying.

Cas huffs a laugh, probably thinking that was a bad joke instead of the confession that it accidentally was, and rolls over facing away from him the same way Dean asked him to. Dean follows, waits until Cas switches the lamp on the end table off, then slots himself along Cas’s strong back. His arm goes around Cas and he rests his hand on Cas’s elbow. One of Cas’s hands covers his almost immediately, and although holding hands is new for him, he doesn’t hate it.

Actually, it’s probably dumb, but knowing that Cas is willing to forego his own alpha instincts that are telling him to hold his omega close tonight just because Dean asked him to is making him more inclined to let Cas hold hands if that’s what he wants to do. Like Cas said earlier, compromise. 

He lies there breathing in their combined scents with his cheek pressed against Cas’s strong back, letting the steady rise and fall of Cas’s breathing lull him to sleep one breath at a time. He’s never been particularly comfortable sharing a bed with anybody before, but this is nice. Easy, even. It doesn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep, but even still, before he’s completely under, he spreads his fingers for Cas’s. Cas threads their fingers together, and it feels so natural and so right that he kisses Cas’s bare back without thinking.

The distinct scent of apple in the air is the last thing he remembers before he falls asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

They default to their biological instincts and move closer together in their sleep. Castiel rolls over on his side and reaches blindly for Dean, tugging him in until Dean wiggles back and he can tuck Dean against him and blanket him in his arms. His nose drops to his omega’s scent gland, his hand covers his belly, and they both fall back asleep without ever having really awoken.

Castiel wakes the next morning in Heaven.

The sun is streaming in around the curtains, it smells like campfire, he has a warm, hard body pressed against him, and the taste of Dean’s skin beneath his lips. His mouth is open and wet on Dean’s scent gland, his cock is hard and throbbing where it's sandwiched between Dean’s ass and his stomach, and Dean is rocking back against him with one hand gripping onto his hip.

“Dean?” he asks, confused and disoriented.

“Thank fuck,” Dean breathes harshly. “Havin’ one hell of a dream there, buddy.”

“I—I didn’t mean to,” Cas tries to explain, trying to move away to put some distance between them. It’s the next day, he can tell his rut is over, and he and Dean never discussed being together outside of that. As inviting as Dean may smell in his bed, he knows he has no right to touch him the way he was only a second ago.

“Well, _mean to_ when you keep goin’ then. I’m slicked right through my boxers, come on.”

Castiel blinks in confusion at Dean’s back. “You... want to?”

Dean pushes his boxers over his hips and kicks them off his feet, releasing a fresh burst of the scent of his smoky slick into the air. Castiel’s eyes move down to his bare ass where he can see the slick smeared between his cheeks and down the backs of his thighs, and he’s frozen in place, struck stupid with how unbelievably perfect the man in front of him is and how incredibly lucky he is to have the chance to see him like this.

Dean looks over his shoulder suddenly, hitting him with bedroom eyes that could rival anybody’s, and he’s too weak to resist him. He doesn’t even bother taking off his own boxers, he just pulls himself free from them and moves in to slide his cock through the slick along the cleft of Dean’s ass. He goes back to kissing Dean’s neck as his hand skirts down his side, over his hip down the curve of his ass and between his cheeks to sink two fingers inside of him.

“God, Cas,” Dean sighs.

Dean’s so fucking wet already. He’s _perfect._ So warm and wonderfully tight despite how many times Castiel has fucked his perfect hole in the last 24 hours, but he knows without question that Dean’s ready to take him if he wants him, and god does he want him with an intensity that shouldn’t even be possible after yesterday.

He pulls his fingers out just to hold him open, and as easy as breathing, he lines his cock up and pushes inside his mate. He sinks in an inch at a time, slow but steady, feeling Dean stretch and yield to him until he bottoms out completely. Overwhelmed by the simple perfection of how they fit together, he has to rest his forehead between Dean’s shoulders to catch his breath before they even get started. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Dean says, stretching out his neck to give Castiel better access to his scent gland. Castiel noses up to it, nuzzling in and breathing in the intoxicating scent of his omega aroused. This is so much better than the pool last night when he could hardly smell him.

 _The pool._ “Are you sore?” Castiel checks.

“‘m good,” Dean replies. “Just... maybe not rough this time.”

Castiel can agree to that easily. Now that he’s inside Dean, encased in his silky heat where he belongs, he’s more than willing to take his time, to feel Dean tremble and quake beneath him as pleasure takes him apart piece by piece. With that thought in mind, Castiel kisses his way towards Dean’s mouth and hums into their kiss when Dean turns to meet his lips. It’s awkward because of the angle, but the additional connection grounds him, reminds him this is he and Dean and not just alpha and omega.

He runs his hand along Dean’s flawless body, down his muscular thigh and up to caress the soft swell of his hip. Dean is all omega, curvy in all the right places, and just feeling his voluptuous form beneath his palm arouses him so much that his hips start to move without his permission. Dean’s lips part under Castiel’s, a soft sound of pleasure already escaping him, and Castiel rocks into him again just like he did the first time. His hand slides down to cup the softness of his abdomen, marveling at the strength of his mate’s core muscles through the thin cushion of fat, at just how _manly_ and solid Dean is here.

“Flawless,” he tells Dean before he kisses the corner of his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Dean huffs.

“You’re perfect,” Castiel insists, trailing his lips back towards his ear. “Every inch of you.”

Pine joins the smoky, burning scent of his omega, filling his chest with warmth and so much affection for the man in front of him that he worries it’s going to overflow. He traces the shell of Dean’s ear with his tongue, takes the lobe between his sharp canines and _just_ lets them graze his flesh, feeling goosebumps pop up along Dean’s skin. 

He continues his leisurely, languid pace of moving back and forth, in and out of his perfect omega as he worships his body. He mouths along Dean’s neck, peppers kisses all around his mating bite, and lavishes his swollen scent gland with attention as he forces his hand away from Dean’s belly and up towards his chest. Dean’s reaction is instantaneous—a breathy curse as Castiel fits the slight swell of his breast to the curve of his palm, massaging the malleable flesh and stimulating his nipple with his fingers. Dean pushes his chest out, asking for a firmer touch and giving Castiel a titillating view of the curve of his muscular back, and who is he to deny this beautiful man a single thing he wants. 

He pulls out and pushes Dean onto his back, climbing over him to settle between his legs so that he can seal his lips to Dean’s greedy nipples. Dean cries out, his fingers clutch at Castiel’s hair, and Castiel sucks the peaked flesh between his lips, laving his tongue over the bud and flicking at it with the pointed tip of his tongue.

“Cas, fuck,” Dean gasps. “I need—” Dean’s hands, already fisted in Castiel’s hair, pull hard and haul him up until their lips connect. Dean licks into his mouth like he’s starving for him, and all it takes to have Castiel line up with Dean’s dripping hole is one subtle shift, and then he’s slipping back inside in a single, fluid thrust that steals the breath straight from his lungs. Dean kisses him right through it, his hands sliding down to cup his face, to hold him in place as if there’s anywhere he would rather be than right here, connected to Dean’s lips with his omega’s bowlegs wrapping themselves around his waist and urging him to keep moving.

Castiel snaps his hips forward again and again, burying himself to the hilt, grinding nice and deep into Dean’s slick channel over and over. One particular undulation of his hips has Dean breaking their kiss and tossing his head back with a low sound of pleasure, his fingers still in Castiel’s hair directing his mouth to his scent gland. Castiel scents him eagerly—with his nose, his cheeks, his mouth—claiming his omega time and time again until their scents are so thoroughly mixed his inner alpha is practically salivating with the sublime perfection of every breath he takes in. 

It hits him suddenly that this is everything, absolutely everything he’s ever wanted. To be connected like this to somebody he respects, admires, and reveres in absolutely every way. To wake up with a stunningly perfect, warm and willing omega in his bed, wet and wanting him, baring his neck and inviting him in to make him his in every way. Dean—playful, mouthy, perfect Dean—with his hands in Castiel’s hair, those curvaceous hips of his matching the rhythm of Castiel’s every thrust, his slick insides sucking him back in after every one like he can’t stand not having him inside of him, filling him the way nobody else will ever be able to fill him.

 _“Ah!”_ Dean calls out, pulling Castiel out of his thoughts enough to realize that he’s clamped down on Dean’s mating gland again, almost but not quite breaking the skin. 

Castiel pulls away immediately, looking down to make sure there’s no blood, and once he’s confirmed there isn’t, his eyes meet Dean’s, which are almost swallowed completely by black. “I didn’t,” he tells him. “I almost—fuck, I almost did,” he admits, dropping his forehead to Dean’s, “but I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“‘s okay,” Dean rasps. “Already yours anyway.”

A possessive thrill runs through him hearing Dean say that and even he can smell the way his scent is so sweet it’s almost cloying. Dean, though, Dean lifts his head and scents the column of his throat, pulling Castiel down further with a hand on the back of his neck and huffing deep breaths against his skin. 

“Alpha,” Dean whispers.

 _Oh._

Oh, god. Nothing has ever sounded so sweet, so perfect, so absolutely _right_ as hearing Dean say that while he’s sheathed inside of him. He wants to fuck him hard and deep, prove to Dean that he’s the best possible alpha he could ever find, that nobody can make him feel as good as Castiel can, but he can’t because Dean said not to be rough, and the last thing he wants to do is cause his omega one single moment of pain.

So instead, he pulls out almost entirely and pushes back in, making sure that Dean can feel every inch of his thick alpha cock and the half inflated knot at the base just begging to slip inside Dean like the rest of him. Dean’s panting hard, his mouth hanging open and his pouty lips ripe for the taking. Castiel samples every millimetre, capturing one and then the other, tracing the bow of Dean’s upper lip with the tip of his tongue and then sucking it between his lips to feel it press so eagerly against his.

Dean whimpers, high-pitched and beautiful, and Castiel backs out just to fill him again and again, wanting to be impossibly closer, deeper. He hikes Dean’s leg up and lets it hook over the inside of his elbow, and in the very next thrust, he gets what he wanted. He sinks inside so incredibly deep, making his knot rub so fucking good against Dean’s slick entrance, but more importantly, he seems to connect with Dean’s prostate. 

Dean lets him know by tightening his arms around him and begging breathlessly, “Again.” Castiel complies, slipping back inside of him again and connecting a second time. “God, fuck. Feels so good, Cas.”

The reverent tone of Dean’s naturally deep voice combined with the praise makes him feel incredibly hot, invincible even, and it only increases his own desire. He can feel the heat simmering low in his stomach now, the tingling of his knot swelling bigger and bigger, and he knows his orgasm is beginning to build already but he can’t even fathom stopping. Not now when Dean’s pleasure-filled sounds are ricocheting off of his bedroom walls, when Dean’s fingers are digging so desperately into his skin, when Dean’s choking out, “Cas, I’m, fuck, I’m gonna—knot me first.” Cas nods, picking up the pace while being careful not to be too rough, not wanting to hurt Dean when Dean’s being the perfect lover, the perfect mate. “C’mon Cas, knot me.” It almost sounds like Dean’s goading him, so Cas leans in to kiss the smirk right off of his stupidly tempting lips, but before he can, Dean lowers his voice and says, “Gimme your knot, alpha. Make me yours.”

He sees red. His growl sneaks up on him, ripping free from his throat even as he catches Dean’s lips with his, and the only thing he’s aware of is their combined scents in the air making his head swim and his knot pressing insistently at Dean’s opening, stretching him, spreading him, loosening him a little bit at a time until half a dozen thrusts later, he squeezes inside. The incredible pressure and warmth wrapped around his knot is indescribable, incomparable to positively anything else, so absolute that he can’t even last long enough to pull out before his knot pops and he comes with a roar. 

He’s locked so firmly into place that he can hardly move at all, but he knows Dean hasn’t come yet and that he’s close, so he keeps grinding into him anyway. Dean claws at his back and Castiel pumps him full of load after load of cum, shuddering and shaking with over-sensitivity but bound and determined to make his omega come.

“That’s it,” Castiel urges him through gritted teeth. “Let go, my sweet omega.”

“Cas,” Dean gasps. “Keep—keep going.”

He swivels his hips and presses into him even deeper, baring his throat for Dean to scent, and the second Dean’s mouth latches onto his mating gland, he can feel his knot swell impossibly bigger. Dean’s body locks up, his scent goes so hot Castiel knows exactly what’s about to happen before it does, and between one second and the next, Dean tilts his head back with a scream and shoots between them. 

Castiel goes down with him as Dean seems to go boneless, following his nose to Dean’s scent gland and breathing in the roasted marshmallow scent that feels like home and smells like mate, is the culmination of every single thing he’s ever wanted and never thought he was “alpha enough” to have. He’s satisfied in the kind of way he’s only read about, locked inside of the omega of his dreams, the partner he’s been searching for, his other half he’s been seeking since the day he presented as an alpha. 

His omega. 

Dean Winchester.

Does it get more perfect than this? Than Dean? Than the way they fit together, complement each other, complete one another? He was always meant to be Dean’s. It defies logic and everything he’s always believed in, but he believes it wholeheartedly. And by some unbelievably lucky stroke of fate, Dean was meant to be his, and Castiel has never been happier.

He nuzzles into Dean’s scent gland, almost bursting with joy when Dean’s fingers start working through his hair as the scent of pine streams from his neck. He knows it’s silly, but as he comes down from his orgasm, he can’t help daydreaming about the possibility of starting every morning off just like this.

Well, maybe not just like this, he amends with a smile. But with Dean. Waking up with Dean in his bed and his scent in the air and on his sheets, and going about his day knowing that he’s found his mate. Would feeling this grounding, centering sense of purpose maybe bleed out into the rest of his life, too? He thinks it would. How could he feel so unsure of himself, unsure of the alpha he is if he had the best mate he could dream up for himself? Maybe he wouldn’t be so awkward anymore. Maybe he’d feel confident for the first time in his life. Maybe he’d be able to show Dean all of the affection he deserves, make him laugh every day and have him fall asleep with him every night smelling like roasted marshmallows and pine. Happy and his.

They lie in a comfortable silence for some time, just soaking up the closeness and scenting each other repeatedly until Castiel can feel his knot starting to go down. 

Dean groans quietly, wrinkling his nose in what Castiel guesses is disgust, and Castiel is compelled to lean in and kiss the very tip of his nose. Dean swats him away, but he has a smile on his face while he does it, and Castiel is beaming at him when he says, “That was certainly a gratifying way to start the day.”

“Bad news is, it can only get worse from here,” Dean agrees.

Castiel’s able to pull out now, so he does so, and rolls onto his back to stretch himself out. “I need to get to work and try to catch up on what I missed yesterday.” For the first time in his life, he doesn’t want to work. He wants to have another day like yesterday, getting to know Dean, spending time with him, and keeping him close by. It’s almost unfair that he had to have his rut on a weekday. He could use a second recovery day, but he knows he can’t take it. He has too many projects on the go.

“How ‘bout I make pancakes while you shower?” Dean offers.

His heart melts, but he knows if he allows himself to share a meal with Dean this morning that it’s going to result in him working even later tonight, which means breakfast will likely be the last time he sees Dean today. He doesn’t want that. 

“I would love to, but I can’t. Maybe if I catch up early enough we can watch a movie or something before bed?”

“Yeah, depending on when I get back from hanging out with Sam, too. Usually isn’t too late, but he’s been known to yap my ear off. I’ll text you to keep you in the loop.”

“Alright.” He’ll have to find his phone, charge it, and leave the sound on for once, but he can do that for Dean. 

The real question is, can he make himself get out of this bed? 

He rolls back over to face Dean, marveling at Dean’s flawless form splayed on his bed. “I don’t want to get up,” he admits.

Dean’s gaze is amused, but fond. “So stay. Play hookie and spend the day with me instead. We don’t even have to leave the bed if you don’t wanna.”

Castiel laughs quietly. “You wouldn’t last another hour without getting bored.”

“Or hungry,” Dean agrees. “Okay fine,” he decides, sighing dramatically. “Go be a contributing member of society, see if I care.”

Still, he lingers. “No work for you today?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Not fucking likely. If I come again I might die.”

“Well definitely don’t work then.”

“Maybe I’ll soak in the hot tub after my pancakes,” he muses. “Get butt ass naked and work out my aches and pains from all the sex.” Oh, that does sound tempting. “Really relax, you know? Get nice and warm, all boneless and pliant. Really sink into it.”

Intentionally or not—probably intentionally, if he knows Dean as well as he thinks he does—Dean’s painting one hell of a mental picture of himself naked and flushed in the hot tub, and Castiel has to reign it in before his mind decides to go off on a tangent and derail the rest of his day.

“Alright, I have to get out of this bed before you convince me otherwise,” Castiel says, rolling out of bed. 

Dean laughs but says, “Well you’re no fun.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” Castiel says as he walks around the bed towards the bathroom. “I’ll hopefully see you later, Dean.”

“Later, Cas,” Dean says, folding his hands up behind his head. 

That’s one hell of a picture to carry with him, so it’s with that memory in his mind that he starts the water and hops into the shower. He’s just gotten his hair wet when he hears, “Hey, Cas?”

He pokes his head out around the shower curtain to see Dean completely naked, one shoulder leaning on the door frame. “Just for the record, I had more fun with you yesterday than I’ve had in years. You’re alright.” Then he grins and adds, “For an alpha.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and shuts the curtain again, but by the time Dean’s silhouette disappears from behind the curtain, he’s got a smile on his face again. Dean moved in a few days ago hating him, and now he said he thinks he’s alright.

After volunteering to have sex with him this morning outside of his rut. _And_ Dean tried to get him to spend the day with him afterwards, too. 

He can’t understand why or how, but maybe, just maybe, he has a real chance here. 

Dean can’t remember the last time he felt this rested and full of energy. He dances around Cas’s kitchen while he makes the pancakes he promised, and even though Cas said he didn't have time to eat with him, the dude’s still gotta eat, so he brings him up a short stack along with a mug of coffee and disappears before he can get shit for it.

He does the dishes, has another cup of coffee, then does what he was teasing Cas about earlier and heads out back to the pool. He swims for a while before soaking in the hot tub, and by the time he pours himself out of there, it’s almost noon. He showers the chlorine stink off of him, gets dressed for the day, and spends the afternoon on a video call with Charlie going over what had worked from his last camshow (what brought in the most tips) and what didn’t. 

“They seemed weirdly excited about the idea of an alpha in the same house as you, but then again, they weren’t the only ones, were they?” she asks knowingly.

He’s not about to deny that when he’s sure Charlie has an embarrassing GIF of himself lined up. “You smelled him.”

“Apple pie. Dean Winchester’s kryptonite.”

“Good lay, too,” Dean says.

Charlie’s jaw drops like she’s in a cartoon. “You slept with him already?”

“He went into a rut, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, _not_ sleep with him?”

“You find a guy that looks like Cas, smells like pie, and fucks like he does and then try to tell me how easy it’d be not to sleep with him.” Charlie just gives him a blank look, which is when he realizes that Charlie of all people isn’t going to see the appeal of Cas. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

That makes her laugh. “Well, sure. Change that to a cute girl who smells like brownies and I’d be dropping to my knees too. But god, talk about complicated? Sleeping with the guy who branded you—”

“Bit me,” Dean corrects, somewhat sheepishly. “Thanks for clearing that up, by the way. And sorry for biting your head off about it when you tried to bring it up before.”

“Don’t sweat it. You know I’m always happy to help my bestie get some pie flavored peen,” she beams. “But seriously. Sleeping with the guy who bit you, who's still got a mark on your neck _and_ who you live with really seemed like a good idea to you?”

“Not any dumber than moving in with him,” Dean points out.

She tilts her head like she’s considering it, and says, "You like him, don't you?"

Dean shrugs even though he can feel his face getting warm. "He's alright."

“Uh huh," Charlie says, clearly not convinced. "Just don't swept up in all the alpha/omega feedback hormones if that’s not what you want.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promises, ignoring the way Charlie’s eyes narrow. “I’m goin’ out with Sam in a bit, so I’ll get my head completely clear of apple pie alphas while I’m gorging myself on nachos and half-listening to whatever Sam has to say about school.”

“Sounds like fun! Call me if you need me, though. Anytime, okay? I will be your red-headed beta in armor, no questions asked.”

“Wouldn’t bet against you for anything,” he says sincerely. “Thanks, Red.”

It’s about an hour’s drive out to Sam’s place, and since Sam’s last class ends at four, he gets ready to leave around three. Before he leaves, he swings by Cas’s office first to tell him he’s taking off.

He doesn’t know if interrupting Cas at work is okay or not, but he can’t really see Cas getting mad at him for it (or anything), so he raps his knuckles on the door anyway. 

“Come in.”

He pushes the door open and pops his head in. He’s met with a warm smile and Cas’s scent more concentrated than he’s smelled it since this morning. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No need to apologize. You’re always welcome,” Cas tells him.

“Oh,” he replies, pleased but trying not to show it too much. “I’m gonna take off, so I just wanted to let you know you’ve got the house to yourself in case you wanted to walk around naked or something.”

“While I don’t foresee that in my immediate future, I appreciate the heads up.”

Dean’s lips quirk. “You just gonna work all night?”

“It certainly seems that way at this rate,” Cas answers. 

“You’re gonna stop for food, right?” Dean checks. “I know you didn’t eat lunch, and it’s almost dinner.”

“I’ll make a sandwich,” Cas promises.

He doesn't know why, but the idea of Cas eating all alone makes his insides twist. “I could bring you something back if you want?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble. Go have fun with your brother,” Cas says. “Just let me know when you’re coming back in case I have to put clothes on.”

Another joke. Cas is fucking funny when he isn’t so nervous he’s tripping over his feet. “Don’t do it on my account,” Dean flirts, and _there. There’s_ the blushing alpha he’s used to outside of the bedroom. He grins nice and wide, pleased with himself, and decides to end the conversation there. He takes a step back, but points an accusing finger at Cas before he goes. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Drive safe,” is the last thing he hears before he closes the door. He misses the proximity to Cas’s apple pie scent almost immediately, but forces himself to walk away from the door and down the hall. He grabs his keys, a jacket, and he’s outta there. The drive’s an easy one. Not much traffic for the first ¾’s, and he’s so used to navigating the busy streets as he gets closer to Sam’s university that it’s almost second nature for him.

As usual, Sam’s parked in the grass with a book laid out in front of him, but he looks up when he hears the distinct rumble of Baby’s engine. By the time he’s got Baby pulled up to the curb, Sam’s walking over with a big smile on his face and his bag over his shoulder. 

“Hey bitch,” Dean greets him.

“Shut up, jerk. How was the drive?”

“Same as always. Just me and Led Zeppelin.”

Sam huffs. “I don’t know how you listen to the same ten tapes every day of your life.”

“No different than the same ten songs on the radio,” Dean argues. 

Sam leans in a little, sniffing at him. “You smell funny.”

“Like you’re a freaking bouquet of roses,” Dean says back. 

“Not bad. Just different. Are you wearing some weird cologne or something?” he asks, sniffing again. 

“Yeah, wanted to get all dolled up for you, Sammy,” he says sarcastically. But it does have him wondering. What does he smell like? Cas? Or is Sam picking up on the bite he has hidden with makeup? Either way, it seems safer to steer the conversation in a different direction. “The usual place?”

“Like you’d let us go anywhere else,” Sam says.

“Been thinkin’ about those nachos all damn day,” Dean admits with a grin. “How were classes?”

Sam launches into a bunch of shit he can barely keep up with, but his enthusiasm and Dean’s pride for his little brother are enough to keep him (mostly) interested. Sam’s still yapping when they pull into the restaurant, and he only settles down once they get their favorite booth back in the corner and a couple of sodas.

“Wanna hear something crazy?” Sam asks.

“You’re dropping out to take up pole dancing.”

“How’d you get it on the first guess?” Sam deadpans. Dean barks a laugh, but then Sam says, “No, seriously. Brady dropped out.”

“Holy shit,” Dean exclaims. “How come?”

“His mom isn’t doing too well, and he needs to go home to help out with his brothers and sisters.”

“Shit,” Dean says, quieter now. “That sucks, Sammy. If you talk to him, tell him I’m really sorry.”

“I will. Now I just gotta try to find a roommate in the middle of the semester,” Sam sighs. “Hopefully one who isn’t gonna throw parties every weekend so I can actually study.”

Holy crap. Sam has an empty room. Sam needs a roommate who won’t distract him from school, and Dean’s already paying for the stupid place anyway. He’d actually be _saving_ himself money by not getting his own place because he wouldn’t be paying rent on two places if he did the logical thing here and moved in with Sam. Sam’s apartment isn’t on campus, he’d have just as good a space to film himself at Sam’s as he does at Cas’s...

 _Shit,_ Cas.

It feels like his heart sinks right out of his ass when he thinks about moving out of Cas’s place. He gives his head a shake and tries to think logically instead of with his dick (or his nose—Cas’s scent!). He can’t stay at Cas’s place forever. Hell, the longer he stays, the harder it’ll be to move out. Now that he knows that Cas isn’t the colossal douchebag he thought he was when he first moved in and that Cas only bit him because he thought he had permission, he doesn’t really want Cas paying for everything he needs anymore anyway. 

No matter how uneasy the thought makes him, the right thing to do to not take advantage of Cas is to move out. 

“Dean?” Sam says, letting him know his spacing out hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Time to face the music. He plasters what he hopes passes as a genuine smile on his face and says, “I know just the guy to move in.”

Sam frowns. “Really? Who?”

“You’re lookin’ at him.”

“What?” Sam asks. “What about your condo?”

“Long story short... I lost it. Lost my job, too. And I’ve kinda been staying with... a friend.”

“Wait, _what?_ How the hell did you lose your job? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve got enough going on, and I’m fine now anyway. My boss didn’t have my back after an altercation with an alpha and I quit on the spot,” Dean says, carefully leaving some key details out. “Was gonna go to another service, but Charlie came up with the idea to start something up myself, so we started that this week.”

“Do I wanna know?” Sam asks.

“Probably not,” Dean answers. “So whaddya say? Wanna be roomies, Sammy?”

“Only if you finally stop calling me that,” Sam insists.

“Not a hope in hell,” Dean shoots back. “When can I move in?”

Tomorrow, it turns out. Which means he pulls back into Cas’s place with a heavy heart, knowing full well there’s a very good chance it’ll be the last time. Not that it should matter. He doesn’t even _know_ Cas, not really. Or at least that’s what he’s been telling himself the whole way home. 

(But then why does he feel so fucking sad?)

He opens the door to the house and walks into a cloud of the best scent in the entire world: Cas. He feels some of the pit in his stomach disappear with the first deep breath in, and a little bit more ebb away when he hears, “Dean?”

A few seconds later, Cas appears at the top of the stairs. His hair is fucked, sticking up all over the place, but the second Cas sees him, his face breaks out in a huge smile—like just _seeing Dean_ makes him happy—and Dean’s heart cracks in two all over again. 

“You didn’t text to say you were on your way.”

Dean winces. “Shit. Sorry Cas. I forgot.”

“It’s okay. Just give me a minute to finish up and I’ll come down to join you, okay?”

Dean grabs a beer out of the fridge and plunks his ass in front of the TV, trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to tell Cas that he’s leaving in the morning. True to his word, it’s not long before Cas comes down, still in his work clothes and still smiling. 

His face falls as he gets closer to Dean though, and before he knows it, Cas is next to him, reaching out towards him before he stops himself and grips onto the couch cushion instead. 

“What’s the matter? Are you okay? Did something happen to you when you were gone? Your brother—is he okay?”

Dean nods, his throat tight. Cas being so worried about him only makes it worse. “‘m okay.”

“You’re not,” Cas says quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

 _Can I scent you?_ is on the tip of his tongue, but that’s not fair to either of them. They’re only... well, does friends even fit considering he only came here in the first place to make Cas’s life a living hell? He doesn’t know what they are, but he knows asking to scent Cas now wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Cas especially doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve any of the shit Dean’s put him through since he got here. 

“Can we just watch a movie?” Dean asks. 

Cas is quiet for what feels like a really long time. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something a bunch of times before he stops himself. Finally, he seems able to get words out. “Alright. You pick.”

He barely even glances at the TV before he lands on _Runaway Bride,_ but he’s seen it so many times that he can zone out and still know what’s happening if he needs to comment on it. What he’s really interested in after how the night unfolded is spending time with Cas while he can. 

For Cas’s part, he’s obviously distracted, but as much as he must be aware of Dean’s acrid scent, he keeps a safe distance between them and doesn’t even try to reach for him to comfort him in any way. It’s occurred to him that maybe holding hands or having Cas’s arm around him would help some (probably more than he’d like to admit) but it’s not like they’re dating or anything, and he’s not gonna leave Cas with the memory of him being all clingy and not understanding boundaries, so he doesn’t say anything about it or make a move himself. 

The two-hour long movie seems to pass in the blink of an eye, and this is the moment. This is when he should just open his mouth and tell Cas that he has to leave tomorrow. But Cas’s scent has been turning sour since the movie started, and he doesn’t want to drag him down any further than he already has, so he just... doesn’t say anything. 

Right until Cas turns to face him and he gets a glimpse of the widest, saddest, most pathetic-looking blue eyes he’s ever seen in his fucking _life,_ and he _can’t_ not say something. 

“Cas, I’m really fine.”

“I can smell you, Dean. I know you’re not. And I know you’re strong and intelligent and perfectly capable of handling yourself and your life without any help from me, but if there’s anything I can do to ease any of your worries, literally _anything,_ I’ll do it.” He stops just to swallow, it seems, then adds, “Please tell me how I can help you feel better.”

Fuck, how can he say no to that? To those sad, earnest, _beautiful_ blue eyes? “Anything?”

“Anything,” Cas promises. 

“No questions asked?”

“If that’s what you need.”

He’s stupid. He’s so, so, so fucking stupid, but there’s only one thing coming to mind, and if this is their last night together...

“Can I sleep with you again tonight?” 

The relief seems to pour off of Cas in waves. “I thought I was going to have to move a body,” he admits quietly, which makes Dean crack a smile. “You’re always welcome in my bed, Dean.”

His heart swells so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it burst. “C’mon then.”

They turn off the lights and lock the door, then walk upstairs in silence. Dean brushes his teeth in his bathroom, then changes into pajama pants and meets Cas in Cas’s room, where he’s also down to pajama pants, but has a t-shirt on, too. 

“You wanna lose that before we get into bed?” Dean asks, nodding at his shirt. 

“You don’t mind?”

Dean shakes his head in response, feeling weirdly nervous now that he’s actually in Cas’s bedroom half naked when neither of them can blame it on Cas’s rut. This isn’t an alpha and omega thing, it’s a _them_ thing, and it feels different. 

Even so, he climbs into bed and sprawls out like it’s no big deal, then watches as Cas gets in much more gingerly. Like earlier on the couch, he keeps ample space between them, and Dean has to give the guy credit for respecting his personal space even when they’re side-by-side in the bed they fucked in earlier this morning. 

He wouldn’t usually ask for this, but since this is likely his last chance, he goes for it. “You mind if I snuggle in?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Dean flashes a quick smile and moves over until his head is on Cas’s shoulder. Even though Cas still smells upset, his scent is still unbelievably comforting, and despite what he thought before about how they’re just friends and this wouldn’t be fair to either of them, he blurts, “Can I scent you, Cas?”

“Yes,” Cas sighs. “Please.”

Dean moves in immediately, rubbing his nose along Cas’s scent gland and _inhaling_ the sudden influx of apple in the air. Cas is happy that Dean’s scenting him, and it only gives him the courage to do so more thoroughly. Cas smells so fucking good, and feeling his body warm and solid against his is both grounding and gratifying. 

“May I comfort you?” Cas asks quietly. 

That’s when he realizes Cas is lying as stiff as a board next to him, still keeping his hands to himself. He’s such a good alpha, a good man, and how Dean ever thought anything different even for a second, he will never know. 

“Yeah.”

Cas’s arms come around him, Cas’s chin hooks over his head, and Cas holds him so fucking tight. He rubs soft little circles between his shoulder blades, and one second at a time, Dean feels his worries start to slip away, disappear. Logically, he knows nothing’s changed, that he’s still going to move out tomorrow and that it’s gonna suck not to have Cas this close and smelling this good whenever he wants him, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Not when he has it right now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas asks gently.

“I probably should,” Dean admits. “But can we just do this for tonight and worry about everything else tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Cas answers. “But if you’re okay with it, can you please just reassure me that you’re not in any danger and still in good health and that I don’t have to worry?”

“You don’t have to worry,” Dean confirms. “I’m not in any danger and I’m as healthy now as I was when I left. Except for the extra clogging of my arteries thanks to the nachos I ate,” he relents.

Cas laughs a little. “Good. Thank you.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about me even if there was something wrong, though. It’s not like we’re together or anything,” he says. He tries to say it as gently as possible and more to reassure himself than Cas, but he feels Cas’s body tense for a split second before he takes a deep breath and settles more comfortably against him again.

“I know that. But I still care about you,” Cas replies.

“We barely even know each other,” Dean says, once again for his own benefit.

“You’re right,” Cas agrees. “Logically, I know you’re right.”

The emphasis on ‘logically’ makes him wonder. “But not logically?”

“I was willing to hide a body for you,” Cas says plainly, and Dean chuckles a little, suddenly feeling extremely glad that out of everybody in the world, he’s here with Cas right now.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” 

“Anything.”

“I know we met in a really fucked up way and I spent six weeks afterwards cursing your existence, but I’m really fucking glad—” He hesitates, afraid of saying too much and not saying enough at the same time. “I’m glad I showed up here.”

“I’m glad, too,” Cas says back. “I’m also relieved that you’re no longer cursing my existence. That I know of, anyway.”

“Nah. You’re a good guy, Cas.” Then, because it feels important that Cas knows he thinks so, he makes sure to tack on, “A good alpha, too. You’ve been real good to me.”

“I could say the same about you,” Cas says. “You made my rut bearable for the first time in my life, and on top of that, I’m sure I’ve laughed more in the last few days than I have in the last few years. I’ve really enjoyed your company more than I can say.”

His insides are so damn warm, and he’s sure happy omega pheromones are streaming from his scent gland, but he still makes the self-deprecating joke. “Probably all the sex.”

“It certainly didn’t hurt,” Cas says, laughing a little. “Honestly though, I know this probably isn’t your ideal living situation, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to spending more time with you.”

Shit.

His eyes close as guilt washes through him. After everything Cas has done for him, is he really going to lie here in his arms with his nose pressed to his scent gland and not tell him that he found somewhere to live? He can’t. He can’t do that to Cas.

He pushes away and rubs his hands down his face. Because it seems so much easier to just say it now that he isn’t looking at Cas and doesn’t have to see his reaction, he leaves his palms over his eyes and lets it out. “My brother’s roommate moved out.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, and then Cas says, “Oh. Were they close?”

Cas doesn’t get what he’s saying yet. “Yeah, they’ve been friends for years. But that’s not why I told you. Sam’s got a spare room at his place now.”

Now Cas gets it. He can tell because the scent of rotten fruit hits him almost immediately. “Oh.”

Why is this so hard? “It ain’t you, Cas.”

“No, I know,” Cas says, but his voice is off. Nasally. “Well, I hoped it wasn’t.”

“It’s not. I just... this was always supposed to be temporary.”

“Right. It makes no sense for you to stay with me... a virtual stranger... when your brother has room for you.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you wanted to...” Cas starts, making Dean’s heart beat erratically in his chest. He startles when he feels fingers curl around his wrist and gently tug his hand away from his face. And fuck, there’s those eyes again. Wide and haunted and shining and his favorite shade of blue. So fucking blue. “You could stay.”

“Cas,” he croaks, already shaking his head.

“I would _love it_ if you stayed,” Cas whispers.

“I can’t,” he whispers back.

Cas’s hand cups his face before he moves in, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thinks Cas is gonna kiss him. But he doesn’t—Cas would never do that without asking first, he knows that now that he can think straight. Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s and closes his eyes, taking in deep but quiet lungfuls of air, one big breath at a time. 

When Cas finally speaks, it’s to say, “I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you, Dean.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Why does it hurt so much more to know that the first fucking thing Cas says is to make this easier on him? “I know. I know it sucks.”

Cas’s eyes pop open suddenly, curiosity and hope shining back at him as he backs up to read Dean’s expression. “You’re upset, too.” Dean doesn’t bother denying it. “When you got back, you smelled so distressed. You still do. You don’t want to go any more than I want you to go.”

“I—” He can’t deny that either. He can explain it, though. “Listen, we’re all mixed up with each other’s scents right now. Your rut plus all the scent marking and the frickin’ bite on my neck is just... just making it seem harder than it needs to be.”

“No,” Cas says, shaking his head. “That may be why it’s hard for you, but that’s not why it’s hard for me. You are more than your scent and the person who helped me through my rut, Dean. I want you to stay because of who you are. I like your sense of humor and the no-nonsense way you talk to me. I like your mind, how you stand up for yourself, demand what you deserve, and be exactly who you are without apology. I admire you for that.”

“I like those things about you, too,” Dean confesses. “But just because I move out doesn’t mean we have to never see each other again. Right?” he asks, feeling remarkably insecure now that he’s brought it up. “We can still hang out if you want.”

“You want to be friends?” Cas asks.

Friends. What a weird word to try to line up with what Cas is to him. “I don’t wanna be strangers.”

Cas nods, swallowing hard enough that Dean can hear it in the silence. “Yes. Okay. That’s much better than thinking I’ll never see you again.”

“Yeah?” he checks cautiously.

Cas nods again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Are you leaving this weekend?”

“Tomorrow,” Dean answers, somewhat regretfully. “Sam only has morning classes on Fridays, so we made plans to go shopping for apartment shit in the afternoon. That way I can be set up for bed tomorrow night.”

“That’s why you wanted to stay in here tonight. Because it’s our last night.”

“I’m a selfish son of a bitch,” Dean admits.

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you anywhere else tonight.”

“That’s too bad.” When Cas only does the squinty-eyed thing he loves so much, he has a smile on his face when he continues. “It’s your turn to be the big spoon and everything.”

“That I will take,” Cas says eagerly. “Come here.”

Considering he’s wanted to be in Cas’s arms since the second he walked back into the house, he goes dutifully, turning over and then waiting for Cas to curl around him. Because Cas keeps his face away from his scent gland where he’s sure they both want it to be, he takes a chance and says, “You can scent me if you want to.”

And despite everything else—knowing that tomorrow’s going to fucking suck, that this is probably the last night he spends in Cas’s bed, smelling and feeling like Cas’s omega—Cas’s nose on his scent gland and Cas’s arms wrapped around him with Cas’s hand splayed on his stomach is comforting enough that he’s out in minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn’t end on a cliffhanger, but it also doesn’t end in a happy place. If you would prefer to have the option to continue on with the happy resolution directly after the sadness of this chapter, you should wait until Chapter Ten is posted. 
> 
> If not... enjoy the pain!

Castiel is kissed awake in the morning. 

Dean’s mouth tastes stale with morning breath, but his lips are plush and perfect and _god_ is his fresh air scent enticing. Castiel is kissing him back before his eyes even open, and Dean hums against his lips as he moves in more fully, plastering himself to Castiel’s chest and slipping his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. Without any space between them, their cocks sliding together makes him instantly aware of the aroused state they both woke up in, and he scents the first trace of Dean’s slick in the air while he’s still reeling from the sensation of his omega so hard and willing.

His hands move without his permission, sliding down to cup the globes of Dean’s ass in his hands. When Dean makes a sharp sound of pleasure, Castiel goes with his instincts, gets a good grip, and rolls them over until Dean is on top and between the vee of his legs. Dean shifts until their cocks line up just right, and then his beautiful omega starts to rock against him, dragging their cocks together with only their thin pajama pants between them. 

Dean breaks their kiss to nudge his jaw up, blazing a trail of fire to his scent gland where Dean seals his mouth, sucking hard enough to leave yet another bruise, one Castiel is happy to add to his growing collection of marks from the most perfect omega he can imagine. Dean can leave a fresh one every day if he—

His heart clenches and throbs painfully when he remembers Dean is leaving today.

A sad sound escapes him and Dean pops his head up, eyes dark but concerned. “Too rough?”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m okay. I just... forgot.”

Dean’s eyes dim. “Thought you could send me off with a bang.” The joke falls flat, but Castiel nods his head anyway, and Dean decides to rephrase. “Want to make sure you smell like me before I go.”

He wants to ask why. _Why_ does Dean want him to smell like before Dean leaves if they’re just friends, like they said last night? Why is Dean wanting to have sex again this morning if they’re just friends? But he also doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if this is the last chance he has to be with Dean, he’s going to give him absolutely everything he wants.

“Mark me anywhere you want,” Castiel says without hesitation. “As much as you want.”

Dean leans in to kiss him again, slow and sensual this time as he picks up his rhythm and starts grinding against him again. Dean seems content staying just like this, moving together with their lips sealed, and Castiel is more than happy to indulge him. It goes on until (he assumes) Dean starts to chafe the same as him, and Dean removes both of their pants and uses his slick to ease the way, and then they’re right back to rocking together and making out like they can’t possibly take things any further. 

It could be hours or days later for all he knows, but then Dean’s scenting him and allowing him to scent Dean before kissing his way down Castiel’s chest. 

Watching Dean with his sinful mouth on his skin, moving closer and closer to his cock with every second that passes has him breathing hard and his mouth hanging open. Dean mouths along the crease of his leg, nuzzles into his balls and then licks a stripe up the underside of his cock. 

“Jesus christ,” Castiel curses breathlessly. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, Cas,” Dean promises him. 

“You do. You always do.”

“Just wait,” Dean says with a grin, and then he wraps his lips around the tip of Castiel’s cock. 

Just that is enough to have him moan low in his throat, and for the first time in his life, somebody sinks down his length and swallows him whole. 

“Holy _fuck,”_ he gasps.

He pushes himself up to his elbows to look down at Dean, seeing his lips pulled into a tight line and his mouth opened wide, and when Dean flicks his eyes up to meet his, arousal hits him like a brick wall. He reaches out to slide his fingers through Dean’s bed head, then cups his face lovingly, torn between being unfathomably turned on by seeing his cock completely sheathed in Dean’s mouth and feeling so incredibly fond of the beautiful man in front of him, he doesn’t know whether he wants to fuck his face or lavish it with kisses. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. “God, Dean, I’ve never seen anything more erotic in my life.”

Dean keeps the seal of his lips tight as he pulls back up to the top, and Castiel groans when he feels Dean swipe his tongue along the head before he pops up with an obscene slurping sound. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, alpha,” Dean grins. “Don’t come,” he warns.

And then Dean sucks his cockhead right between those pretty lips of his, wrapping one hand around the beginning of his knot at the same time his tongue starts circling the head. The heat, the extraordinary wetness of Dean’s mouth, and his talented tongue draw a moan from him, all low and gritty and so entirely genuine he couldn’t hold it in if he tried. He loses the ability to breathe for a moment when Dean twists his growing knot at the same time he drags his tongue along his sensitive slit, humming his pleasure around Castiel’s cock in his mouth. 

His thumb has drifted down to Dean’s mouth, brushing over the corner of it where his lips are spit slick and fucking _beautiful,_ and his eyes slam shut when Dean sucks hard and hollows his cheeks so much that Castiel can suddenly feel the shape of himself through Dean’s cheeks. 

“Fuck,” he curses, losing himself enough to slip a gentle hand around the back of Dean’s neck to encourage him to begin bobbing his head. Dean goes willingly, leaning into Castiel so eagerly and following every twitch of Castiel’s fingers and slight roll of his hips to take him deeper when he just can’t help pushing between those plush, plush lips. 

Dean settles into a steady but languid pace, keeping Castiel wholly engrossed and so fucking thankful for the paradise that is Dean’s mouth for long enough that he can no longer rein in his desperate grunts and groans of rapture. His knot is swelling bigger and bigger despite Dean’s warning not to come, and when Dean pulls off to stroke his slick cock and starts mouthing around his knot with his swollen lips, Castiel _has to_ pull him off by his hair before he comes all over his pretty face. 

“Jesus, Dean.” 

“Had enough already?” Dean teases. His voice is rough from having Castiel’s cock down his throat, and he would swear he can feel his cock jerk in Dean’s hand just from the realization. “I was just getting started.”

In that case, “Get your ass up here and get back to work then.”

Dean’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning, and after an enthusiastic, “Oh hell yes,” he’s got a face full of Dean’s _dripping_ hole. 

Dean takes the head of Castiel’s cock back into his mouth and Castiel uses the jolt of pleasure to urge him forward, licking up the stray droplets of Dean’s slick that must have escaped Dean while Dean was sucking his cock (and isn’t _that_ an arousing discovery?) before getting his hands on Dean’s cheeks and spreading them apart. He smells so unbelievably good, but as much as he wants to dive in, he makes himself wait long enough to get one long, lingering look at his perfect pink bud glistening with slick just for him before he leans in. 

Dean groans at the first pass of Castiel’s tongue, an almost strangled sound that might have been Castiel’s name if he didn’t have his mouth full with Castiel’s cock. He tastes perfect, salty with sweat but sweet with omega slick, the smoky scent going straight to his cock and inviting him in more closely. It’s easy to remember exactly how Dean likes the flat of his tongue and Castiel is willing and eager to give it to him. He circles his tongue around Dean’s rim, taking pleasure in how soft and smooth Dean is here, in the hairless flesh and unblemished skin that has a constant trickle of slick for Castiel to lap up. 

Castiel continues his exploration while Dean trembles and writhes back onto his tongue even as he bobs his head up and down Castiel’s shaft, and it’s when Castiel presses the tip of his tongue inside of Dean’s slick center that he feels the first drop of something warm on his chest. He pulls back far enough to catch a glimpse of Dean’s cock drooling precum, and as much as he was enjoying himself licking Dean open, he knows how much Dean enjoyed oral sex the last time. 

He maneuvers himself until he can trail his lips along Dean’s erection, getting a long, low moan from Dean that sends vibrations along Castiel’s cock in the most sinful way. Dean enjoys this so much, and Castiel’s going to make him feel as good as humanly possible. He starts with slow, long swipes of his tongue along his shaft, making his way to the head a little bit at a time. He steadies Dean’s cock with his hand as he licks a stripe along the underside, payback for when Dean did it to him earlier, but he stops to pay special attention to the little spot just under the head. He seals his mouth to the sensitive spot and sucks, flicking at it with his tongue and delighting in the way Dean’s breath hitches. 

Another drop of precum falls onto his skin and he has to inch up to lap at Dean’s leaking head, smirking when Dean’s cock twitches in his grip and Dean stops sucking Castiel’s cock for the first time. Wanting to take advantage of having his full attention, he seals his lips around the head properly and hears a breathless curse reach his ears. 

Fuck, it’s incredible the way he can feel Dean pulse and harden even further as he slides that thick cock into his mouth inch by inch. He savors the smooth glide of spit on skin, the weight of Dean on his tongue, the slight stretch of his lips and the tang of him hitting his taste buds. He’s never particularly enjoyed doing this before, but it’s so much more rewarding now that it’s with Dean, now that he knows he’s bringing Dean so much pleasure just by taking his cock into his mouth. And Dean, sassy, mouthy, incorrigible Dean, seems lost in it. So much so that Castiel knows he needs to be able to give him his full attention. 

He lowers his head and falls back onto the mattress. “On your back, Dean.”

Dean collapses in a heap beside him, and Castiel rolls over and scooches down until he’s between his legs. He looks up at Dean just to make sure this is still okay and sees him flushed a beautiful pink with his hair sticking up in several directions, absolutely gorgeous. Just like in the pool, his stomach swoops and his heart swells, and he’s reminded of the reality of his foolish feelings in the worst possible moment.

He’s going to miss Dean so much.

Thankfully, he has a distraction only inches in front of his face, and he applies himself to his task with a new determination. He leans in anew to take Dean’s cock back into his mouth, humming in satisfaction when Dean rolls his hips and lazily thrusts deeper. “Oh fuck.” Dean’s cursing only encourages him further, and together, they work themselves into a satisfying rhythm. He bobs his head nice and slow, keeping the suction as tight and constant as he can in contrast, and lets Dean meet him halfway with tiny, desperate pumps of his curvy hips. 

Dean spreads his legs further, releasing a new wave of his smoky scent into the air at the same time a quiet plea of, “Touch me, Cas,” escapes Dean.

Castiel uses his free hand to drag his fingers along Dean’s crack and through his slick, and then he sucks _hard_ as he presses his middle finger into his hot center. The reaction is instantaneous: Dean’s back arches off the bed and he produces the filthiest moan Castiel has ever heard in his life. He feels a dark thrill of possessiveness when he realizes how clear Dean is making it that nobody has ever made him feel so good as he feels right now, and he can still do better. He adds a second finger to the first and slips them inside of Dean, their entrance eased with more slick he’s ever felt between Dean’s legs so far. He’s absolutely drenched, and Castiel’s inner alpha roars in triumph.

Dean’s so aroused his body is basically begging for Castiel to fill him, and because he knows that was the end goal here all along and his own cock is so hard and heavy at this point he feels like it might burst, he pulls off of Dean’s deeply flushed cock and kisses his way up his stomach. _Fuck_ he smells good here, and although he had every intention of going straight to Dean’s nipples, he has to stop to scent his sweet skin. He rubs each side of his face along Dean’s freckled belly, peppering kisses to the softness he loves so much more here than anywhere, and only continues his journey upwards when their scents are so mingled that he can’t tell them apart anymore.

Feeling satisfied and settled in ways he doesn’t even understand, he aligns their lower halves with a low moan and brings both hands up to massage Dean’s omega breasts. Dean’s hands cover his, urging him to apply more pressure and throwing his head back in rapture when Castiel complies. It doesn’t matter how many times Dean does it, but seeing him bare his throat to Castiel without any hesitancy always makes his inner alpha proud, and he lurches forward to mouth at his scent gland as he continues to caress Dean’s breasts in his hands. 

“Oh f-fuck,” Dean stutters. “Cas, fuck me.” Dean’s hands weave into his hair to pull him away from his neck. “Need you, alpha.”

 _God,_ does Dean have any idea what it does to him to hear him say that? It’s like a ray of sunshine aimed directly to his heart after a lifetime of shadows, and there’s nothing he wants more than feeling that every day for the rest of his life. But he knows this is probably the last time, his last chance, and he’s going to savor it, savor _Dean,_ savor every kiss and every touch so that he can always remember what it felt like to brush against perfection.

“You’ve got me, my sweet omega,” Castiel promises, lining himself up at Dean’s entrance. Dean’s eyes are trained on his, and although he’s aware he may be coming on too strong, it feels right to add on, “Always,” before he starts to slide inside of him.

Sweet Jesus. As good as Dean’s mouth is, there is nothing that can compare to the sensation of sinking into Dean, into his omega, his mate. Because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Dean for anything, he can see that Dean seems to like it just as much. He takes in every detail hungrily: Dean’s lips parted and his breathing heavy, his face flushed a beautiful, rosy pink all the way down his neck, and his eyes heavily lidded but alive with pleasure, his body opening for him like he’s meant to fit Castiel’s exact size, his precise girth and length. 

_Because he is._

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes, curling a hand around the back of Cas’s neck to pull him down so he can stretch out and scent along Castiel’s scent gland. “Always feels so good with you.”

“Dean,” Castiel says softly, his heart actually aching in his chest as he drops his head to Dean’s temple. “You are flawless, inside and out.” Then, as it occurs to him he might not get the chance to tell him again, he repeats it. “Flawless. Everything anybody could ever want in a man, in an omega, in a mate.”

A quiet but broken sigh escapes Dean and he pulls back to gaze down at him again, which is when he sees Dean’s lips faltering as they try to force themselves into a smile. 

“Actions speak louder than words,” Dean whispers.

There seems to be some kind of hidden meaning in Dean’s eyes that he can’t translate completely, but he thinks he knows what he’s asking for at least. “You want me to show you how perfect you are to me?”

Dean’s eyes dart away, overwhelmed or maybe even scared, but his scent stays warm and inviting without even a hint of fear. “Just once... I wanna know how it feels. I want—” He stops, licks his lips nervously, and yes, Castiel can smell his nerves on him now. As always, he’s driven to reassure him, to comfort him and make him feel better.

“Anything,” Castiel promises him. His hips are twitching with the need to move, tempted beyond measure by the snug fit of Dean all around him. “I want to give you everything, Dean. There is nothing too big or too small you could ask me for.”

“Make me feel like I’m yours,” Dean whispers. “Your omega.”

 _You are my omega!_ Castiel wants to shout. His bite is right there on Dean’s mating gland, Dean _smells_ like he’s his, smells like _mate_ and feels like home, and for the first time, he has permission to indulge in that, to stop pushing those thoughts out of his brain and let his alpha make love to his omega. Whether Dean means to or not, it’s the best/worst thing he could ask of him, because even as he’s nodding his head and capturing Dean’s lips in a sweet and tender kiss, he knows that this will be the thing that breaks him.

But he also knows that he would break himself a million times more for Dean, so he throws himself into it. 

He begins moving inside him as he kisses Dean the way he deserves, trying to show Dean with every brush of their lips and caress of his tongue that he’s precious and cherished and the best thing that’s ever happened to him, is likely the best thing that will _ever_ happen to him. He knows his scent is beginning to sour but ignores it, concentrates instead on making Dean feel good. He knows Dean’s body well enough to know exactly how to angle his hips to have him breathing out an, “Oh _fuck.”_

He stays just like that, thrusting into him slowly but deeply and thoroughly, eyes locked and breaths mingling in the inch between their lips. Dean combs his hands through Castiel’s hair a few times, then leans up and nuzzles into his cheek before pressing his lips to his stubbled skin, such a sweet and intimate gesture that Castiel doesn’t know if he should weep with gratitude or heartbreak. 

It seems to open the floodgates, and Dean mumbles the kinds of things he only ever thought he’d hear in his dreams. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Cas, y’know that? Wanted you the second I saw you and never stopped.”

His heart beats in his chest so hard he would swear he can feel it knocking against his ribs, and he can feel his face getting unbearably warm. He doesn’t know what to say, has never had the opportunity to learn the appropriate way to react to a statement like that—and even if he did, this is coming from _Dean._ The only person in the entire universe that matters to him at this moment, and he’s so overwhelmed and heartsick and stupidly, idiotically hopeful that he can’t think of anything but the man rolling his hips to meet each languid thrust with more grace than he possesses in his entire body. The response that ultimately comes out of his mouth is an awed, surprised-sounding utterance of the name that now embodies his whole world. 

_“Dean.”_

He kisses Dean’s forehead, then each cheek, absolutely enchanted by the way Dean huffs like he’s annoyed but tightens his fingers in Castiel’s hair to keep him from pulling away. Almost like Dean craves this kind of touch but is too proud or too scared (or both) to ask for it. He’s happy to be the one Dean allows though, so he kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth, drops down to press his lips to his chin and the bolt of his jaw, whispering, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“You are,” Dean argues lightly, his juvenile, irresistible sense of humor combined with the scent of pine in the air making Castiel’s eyes water.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he admits against the shell of his ear.

Dean’s fingers slide down to cradle the back of his head and he turns his head to urge him closer, connecting their lips once more with a shuddering exhale through his nose. Dean’s mouth opens for him and Castiel sweeps his tongue inside, sweeping a gentle hand down Dean’s side to land on his hip, caressing his soft skin and enticing curves. It feels like Dean’s hand lays a trail of fire down his body in turn as he grips and clutches at his shoulder, between his shoulder blades, and the middle of his back. 

Neither of them are able to contain the sounds coming out of them anymore, and as much as they keep trying to maintain their kiss, when Dean starts pushing shamelessly against him and Castiel’s body answers his silent request for more instinctively, they lose it for several quaking moments. He builds slowly into a faster pace, careful to stay gentle and mindful of Dean’s every breath and twitch of muscle, wanting to wring every possible ounce of pleasure from him this final time if it’s the last thing he does.

With that thought in mind, his fingers climb the ladder of Dean’s ribs to cup his breast and roll his nipple between his fingers, feasting on the needy sounds Dean makes against his mouth and the fresh spike of burning wood that he follows to Dean’s scent gland. He marks him again, sucking hard to make a bruise that will last, that will stay with Dean longer than Castiel has the opportunity to. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean encourages him. “Yeah, c’mon.’

His inner alpha wants to snap his hips, wants to drive deep inside of him and claim him with his knot and his seed with his mouth latched to his neck, but he keeps his steady thrusts and forces himself to break the seal of his lips before he does something he can’t take back. He kisses along the cords of Dean’s neck instead, under his chin and along his jaw while he continues tweaking Dean’s nipple between the pads of his fingers. A particularly solid tug causes Dean to arch his back again, and although he can’t be inside of Dean quite so deeply when he mouths down his chest to pull his nipple between his lips, that means the head of his cock is squeezed nice and tight and he barely registers Dean’s cry of pleasure over his own low moan. 

Dean’s pleasured gasps are filling the room, echoing off of his walls and burrowing into his memory, and he has to look up to see his face when he’s too lost in sensation to guard his expression. His heart stops. “Just look at you,” Castiel says, dazzled by his beauty. “I love making you feel as good as you deserve.”

Dean nods shakily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he seems to be able to get words out. “I’m real fucking close, Cas.” Castiel feels pride bloom warm and satisfying inside of him, and it only gets sharper when Dean says, “You gonna make me come on your knot, alpha?”

Castiel is pitching forward and bottoming out without a thought, helpless against the impulse to give his omega everything he needs, everything he wants. He grinds the knot that’s been swollen and aching since Dean had his mouth on it against Dean’s slick rim and rejoices in the new choked-off sound of pleasure from Dean.

“You feel fucking amazing.”

The praise has him burning hot with an unexpected rush of desire, flames racing through his veins and driving him to start thrusting in earnest now, getting up onto his knees and pulling Dean’s bow legs around his waist so he can sink in even deeper. Dean’s hands frame his face and hold him still while he kisses him, hungry but tender and remarkably insistent, and Castiel sinks in impossibly further, feeling every inch of his length sliding in and out of Dean’s silky hot channel again and again. 

He doesn’t need Dean to tell him each thrust is bringing him closer to the edge, because he’s so marvelously connected to him, so unfailingly in tune with his mate that he picks up on his breathing getting more erratic without even meaning to. He notices Dean’s lips faltering from their incessant rhythm, his breaths puffing hard and hot against his lips, Dean’s eyes squeezing closed as his hands fall onto Castiel’s shoulders and grip on for dear life.

He’s absolutely breathtaking, and Castiel isn’t even thinking of his own building pleasure or how close to the apex he is because he can’t think of anything except for how much he cares for Dean, how much he wants to watch Dean be swamped with the thrill and utter bliss of what he’s confident will be a very satisfying orgasm.

“It’s alright, Dean,” Castiel urges him. “You can let go now.” He presses his lips firmly to Dean’s, gratified when Dean’s lips cling to his until his mouth pops open and his whole body goes taut. “Come for me, my omega.”

“K-knot me,” Dean chokes out, his fingernails digging into his skin. “Fuck. Fucking _fill_ me.”

Lust unlike anything he’s ever known slams into him, and he’s driving deep inside of Dean with one single, almost ruthless thrust. His knot forces itself past Dean’s slackened rim on the first shot, and Dean’s already clenching around him and shooting between them so fucking hot and wet before Castiel’s even all the way inside. The extra stimulation and intense grip on his knot triggers Castiel’s orgasm, too, and his knot pops as he comes with a stuttered groan, filling his omega with his semen.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Dean rear forward before he sinks his teeth into Castiel’s shoulder.

Colors he’s never seen before burst behind his eyelids as he comes explosively a second time, almost painfully hard, spilling so much seed into his omega so fast that he can feel cum and slick leaking out and coating his balls. He shudders his way through his second orgasm, his shoulder throbbing and burning hot with pain where Dean’s teeth are still tearing through his flesh, and he brings a hand to Dean’s face to gently urge him away, murmuring quiet reassurances. “Okay. Okay, Dean. You marked me, omega. I’m all yours. Let go, sweetheart.”

Dean whimpers, but his teeth come free, stinging fiercely and making Castiel wince. Before he can say a word, Dean says, “I can’t. I need—” and suddenly, Dean’s mouth is back on his skin, licking and lapping at the tender flesh. Cleaning it, he guesses, until Dean’s finally satisfied and collapses back on the pillow under his head in a boneless heap.

Castiel’s reeling as he follows after him, tucking his nose up into the crook of his neck and trying to catch his breath from what was undoubtedly the best sex he’s ever had, and the closest thing he’s ever had to a mating bite. It _was_ a bite after all. Not on his mating gland, but on the same side and only a few inches away, and he hopes with everything he is it scars and he’s marked forever as Dean’s, because he knows now without question it will always be Dean and only Dean for him for the rest of his life.

They haven’t known each other long enough to be able to tell Dean as much. He isn’t even sure it’s wise to confess that he intends to earn his trust, his friendship, and then try for more after that. He wants to ask Dean on a date, sweep him off of his feet and worship the ground he walks on until he wins Dean over. He doesn’t care if it takes forever, if he has to watch Dean take other lovers or entertain millions of other alphas and omegas and betas on the internet in the meantime, he is bound and determined to be absolutely everything Dean needs and he will never stop trying until he can convince Dean as much.

There’s a chunk of time where the two of them deal with their thoughts and emotions separately, holding each other and scenting each other the whole time. For Castiel’s part, he soaks up the closeness and the satisfied, joyful scent of pine streaming off of Dean like his own personal ambrosia. It’s been almost twenty minutes when Dean breaks the silence.

“I fucking bit you,” Dean says, sounding every bit as surprised as Castiel feels.

“I noticed,” Castiel says back.

“You, uh, really rattled my brains there, alpha.”

It’s said in a teasing tone of voice, but he’ll take it. “You’re a very inspiring lover.”

Dean huffs a laugh, stretching out his neck so that Castiel can move even closer. He presses the flat of his nose to Dean’s scent gland and breathes in their combined scents, smells mate and home and wants to stay right here forever. 

“Definitely gonna miss the morning sex,” Dean says matter-of-factly. 

“You could stay,” Castiel says again. 

Dean’s fingers brush through his hair tenderly. “Sam needs me, Cas. Don’t... don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says immediately. “I’m being selfish.”

“No, you’re being smart. Asking for what you want.”

That gives him pause. Is Dean not asking for what _he_ wants? It seems the only thing Dean’s comfortable asking for is sex, and even that is more with his body than his words, he realizes. With that thought in mind he slips his hand down Dean’s side until he finds his hand, then slots their fingers together. Dean allows it, even presses a kiss to the top of his head, and he feels hope take root in his chest.

“Can I ask you something else?” Castiel wonders.

“Shoot.”

“If you had the choice and were basing your decision purely on what you wanted, would you stay here with me? Like this?” 

If it wasn’t for Dean’s fingers still moving through his hair he would think Dean fell asleep for how long it takes him to answer. “You smelled me when I got home—back to your place, I mean—last night.” 

_Home._ “Will you come back sometime?”

“Yeah,” Dean says easily. “Someone’s gotta make sure you drag your ass outta that computer chair every now and then.”

“Nobody could do it faster than you,” Castiel assures him.

“I’m gonna check in,” Dean says, surprising him. “Every day if I have to, and if you’re not done with work by six _at the latest,_ you’re gonna have to answer to me.” That sounds exceedingly good to him. “There’s more to life than just work, y’know.”

With Dean in his arms and the desire to win him over fresh in his mind, he replies, “I think I’m beginning to see that now.” Then he gives Dean’s hand a little squeeze to make sure he knows what he means.

Everything feels so simple, so right, that the tingling sensation signaling that his knot is starting to go down is a cold dose of reality that he detests more and more with every second. Both of their scents begin to sour, likely brought on by the other’s, and it’s childish and absolutely ridiculous that Dean tightly wrapping his arms around him as if he wants to keep Castiel as close as Castiel wants to stay makes his eyes water, but he really is going to miss having Dean in his home.

“This ain’t forever,” Dean says quietly. “I love driving. I’ll come visit. Hell, I gotta take you out for a spin in my Baby sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Castiel manages. Then, because it seems foolish not to put himself out there now of all times, he throws caution to the wind. “I’d also like to take you for dinner sometime.”

He can hear Dean swallow hard and feels the lump in Dean’s throat bob as he works it down, his own heart racing in his chest. “I’d be down for that.” Relief rushes through him, his newfound happiness wafting into the air so strongly that there’s no doubt in his mind why Dean chuckles fondly. “I gotta shower and hit the road for today, though.”

Although it’s difficult, it doesn’t seem quite as impossible as he thought it would be to pull out and roll over so that Dean’s free to get up—free to leave—and out of his bed. Dean doesn’t, though. He rolls over and props his head up on one hand, gazing down at Castiel with so much emotion in his eyes Castiel’s afraid to try to put a name to it. 

“You’ve been real good to me, Cas,” Dean tells him. “I’m glad I got the chance to see you’re not an alpha knot head after all. Thanks for, y’know, bein’ you.” With that, Dean leans in and places a tender, lingering kiss to his lips that leaves his heart aching, then rolls out of bed and sashays out of his room. 

Castiel lies there for a few minutes, willing his scent to even out so that he doesn’t make this any harder than it already is on Dean, and once he has a good grip on his emotions for the time being, he gets up to brush his teeth and start his day. 

Dean knows it’s a dick move, but when’s he ever claimed to be a nice guy? 

He waits for the sound of Cas’s shower to turn on, and then throws on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then starts packing up his stuff. Thank Christ he was the one who set up his computer in the first place and that he never tossed the boxes they came in, because he’s able to pack those quickly, too. He runs out to the car with two boxes, comes back for the ring light and his suitcase, then is able to get his duffel on the third and final trip. 

He takes a stupid, reckless chance and dashes into Cas’s room to grab a pillow off his bed to take with him, stands at the door of the bathroom and breathes in the delicious, freshly baked apple pie scent of Cas one final time, and then with his heart heavy in his chest and his eyes stinging (man the fuck up, Winchester), he does the hardest thing he’s ever had to do and takes the first step away from Cas. 

The way every single instinct he has is _screaming_ at him not to walk away is exactly why he has to do it like this. He’s a fucking pussy, but there’s absolutely no way he could have looked Cas in those big blue eyes of his, saw his heartbreak, and chose to walk away. And he has to. He can’t stay here just because Cas smells amazing and the sex is mind-blowing, _especially_ not after he lost his damn mind and almost completed their bond by sinking his teeth into his mating gland. 

He wanted to. After only knowing the guy less than a week, he wanted to, and that’s why he’s gotta bail. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to say no to Cas if he asks him to stay again, and Sam needs him to fill that room and be the kind of roommate Sam needs to be able to succeed in school, and nothing is more important than that. 

If Cas is really supposed to be his mate the way he’s starting to suspect he might be, he’ll understand. He’ll be willing to wait, to hang out or go for dinner or whatever other sappy shit Cas has in mind until Sam’s done with school or finds another roommate. And then... well, he guesses they’ll see after that

But as he stands at his car looking up at the house that’s felt more like home than he can ever remember feeling before with tears starting to blur his vision, he sure as shit hopes he’s welcome back. 

He takes a deep breath, tosses his duffel bag and Cas’s pillow onto the passenger seat, and climbs in behind the wheel. The sound of Baby’s engine doesn’t warm him the same way it usually does, but it is enough to stop the tears from welling up any further. With Cas’s scent in the car mixing with the familiar combination of leather and motor oil, he settles enough to put the car in drive and ease off the break. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind makes him check the rear view mirror, and his heart stops when he sees the silhouette of Cas standing at his bedroom window, looking down at him. 

He can’t see his face, but he turns around in his seat, rolls the window down, and leans out so that Cas can see him. He wishes he could tell if he was pissed or just disappointed, but he can’t get a read on his body language this far away. 

Well, he couldn’t anyway, until Cas lifts his arm in what has to be the saddest wave he’s ever seen in his life. Tears flood his vision again, because the awkward uncertainty of the gesture is so quintessentially _Cas_ that he thinks he might miss him already and he hasn’t even pulled out of the driveway yet. 

He lifts his arm to return the wave, and then he does the last thing he wants to do and drives away from Castiel. 

Castiel comes out of the bathroom feeling as centered and calm as he could hope for with the impending goodbye to Dean fresh in his mind, when he stops mid-step as he notices one of his pillows is missing. Confused and curious, he calls down the hall. 

“Dean? Did you take my pillow?”

No response. 

The shower isn’t running, either, so he walks down the hall and pokes his head into the open doorway of Dean’s room and feels his heart drop to his feet. 

His computer is gone, the bags that were lying open on the floor since Dean’s moved in are no longer there, and if it weren’t for the Ethernet cable he gave Dean and his lingering, putrid scent hanging in the air, there would be no trace of him at all. 

“Dean?” he calls out, louder this time although some part of him he doesn’t want to acknowledge already knows he’s gone. 

It’s possible he’s just packing up the car, though. He’d have to make multiple trips on his own, and he wouldn’t really leave without saying goodbye, would he?

_Unless that’s what the kiss was for before he got out of bed._

With his heart somehow managing to pound while it feels like it’s being pulverized by a squeezing fist, he goes back to his bedroom and looks out the window. 

_Oh._

There Dean is. Getting into his car and shutting the door without so much as a second look. Castiel’s shoulders droop, his scent is already so putrid it’s loathsome, and he feels like his heart is breaking, shattering, crumbling into a million pieces at the sight. He understands, though. He does. If Dean feels even a fraction of the connection to him as he feels to Dean, he can’t imagine how difficult it would be to be the one who has to walk away. 

And so even though his eyes are burning and he knows he’s standing at the start of what are sure to be several long, painful days ahead of him, he holds no ill will or grudge against Dean. If this is what Dean needed to do to make this easier on him, Castiel is glad he took the initiative and went ahead and did it. He’s even glad Dean doesn’t have to smell the distress pouring off him and see the pain all over his face or bare witness to his eyes swimming in unshed tears. He doesn’t have to try to hide any of it now, he can let his tears fall, his shoulders shake, and the harrowing sobs escape from his mouth as he watches _his mate_ prepare to drive away from him. Not forever, he reminds himself, attempting to take comfort from that minuscule detail in a storm of despair. 

But then his eyes catch on something, a movement in the driver’s seat, and a few seconds later, Dean’s beautiful face coming through the open window. His heart swells when he sees Dean looking up at him. Knowing Dean was unable to leave without looking back after all is a strangely soothing piece of information, and he seizes this blissful, final chance to say goodbye with gusto. 

He lifts his hand and waves, awkwardly but purposely exaggerating his movements so that Dean will be able to see it from a distance. He can’t possibly tell from so far away, but he’d like to believe that Dean smiles before he raises his own hand and waves back, looking confident and unfairly good just from his shoulders up before he settles back in behind the wheel. 

It’s strange but undeniable that he feels at least somewhat better from such a small gesture, and miraculously, the tears have stopped falling as he watches the car that carries the man he foolishly fell in love with this week until the taillights are a distant memory. 

Then he gets dressed, gets a mug of coffee, and goes back to life as he knew it before Dean.

All alone.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Dean pulls into Sam’s driveway, he’s never been more ready to get out of his car and away from the disgusting scent of omega in distress in his entire life. Sam gave him a key last night, so he starts the tedious process of moving his shit from the trunk of his car into the apartment. He fucking _hates_ moving, and combined with how horrible he feels after leaving Cas’s place how he did and how much fucking makeup he has to put on his neck to hide the bruises and Cas’s bite from Sam, he’s in a pretty shitty mood by the time Sam gets home in the afternoon.

Sam makes them lunch, and then they head out as planned to get him a cheap bed and mattress. They spend the afternoon putting the bed frame together and setting up his computer, and then break for dinner and drinks in front of the TV. It’s nice hanging out with Sam, spending time with what’s left of his family and just relaxing in the way you really only can with the people you grow up with, but no matter how hard he wants to pretend it isn’t true, a part of him just feels _unsettled._

He’s fucking exhausted by 10:00 and heads to bed. 

He strips down to his boxers and flops onto his mattress, and only because he’s in the privacy of his own room, he falls face first into Cas’s pillow and breathes in his scent. It’s nothing compared to how good it smells when he’s got his nose against Cas’s scent gland, but it's the closest he’s had in 12 hours and it’s unbelievably comforting. So much so that he reaches his phone and texts Cas before he can talk himself out of it.  
  
**DEAN:** On a scale from 1-10, how pissed are you at me?  
  
He doesn’t expect a reply right away because he knows Cas isn’t the kind of guy who keeps his phone handy every minute of every day, so he’s pleasantly surprised when his phone lights up with an answering text almost immediately.  
  
**CAS:** One. Zero if you gave me the option. I’m glad you did what made the situation easiest for you.   
  
It’s a bigger relief than he was expecting to know that Cas understood why he left without saying goodbye, but without the fear acting as a wall between his heart and his mind, he feels the pain of being separated from the alpha he’s spent 36 out of the last 48 hours tangled up with really hit him.

Like the fucker can read his mind from an hour away, another message pops up.  
  
**CAS:** How are you doing? Are you okay? Safe?   
**DEAN:** I’m good, Cas. Tucked in at my new place snuggled up on the pillow I stole from you, but if you tell anybody I said that I’ll have to kill you  
**CAS:** Your secret is safe with me.  
**DEAN:** How are you doing?  
**CAS:** I’m good as well.  
  
He doesn’t know if he’s just cocky or what, but there isn’t a single part of him that believes that.   
  
**DEAN:** Good. I’m fucking exhausted so I’m turning in now, but I’ll check in again tomorrow, okay?  
**CAS:** Okay. Sleep well, Dean.

Nobody’s more surprised than him when he really does. He sleeps a solid thirteen hours and doesn’t wake up until eleven o’clock Saturday morning, and if he didn’t roll over and see the time, he probably would have kept right on sleeping. Instead, he throws some pants and a t-shirt on and walks blearily to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. 

“I thought you died, man,” Sam says from the couch. Dean waves him away while he waits for his coffee, then takes a seat at the small kitchen table and works on sucking it down as fast as possible without burning a layer of skin off of his tongue. “The good news is, I’m more than halfway done with the work I wanted to get through this weekend while you caught up on beauty sleep.”

He waits for Sam to look over his shoulder again, then gives him the middle finger.

Thankfully, that’s enough to deter the rest of the conversation for now, so he finishes his coffee in a blissful silence. Once he’s more awake, he gets up to pour himself a bowl of cereal, feeling smug that he gets to have Corn Pops instead of Shreddies, _Cas._

And he officially made it twenty minutes before he thought of Cas. Day’s off to a good start. 

Saturday’s spent being lazy with his brother, watching TV, and later, cooking dinner and dessert from scratch for the first time in so long he actually forgot how much he enjoys cooking. Although they didn’t do much, he still finds himself tired as fuck throughout the day and once again heads to bed early and sleeps almost twelve hours. Sam gives him a hard time, but Sam also has no idea how much sex he’s had in the last few days and how his body needs time to recover. He and Cas text a few times each day, and by the middle of the week, Cas’s apple pie scent is almost entirely gone from his pillow and it really starts to sink in just how much he misses him.

He’s torn between wanting to make the drive out to see him this weekend and wondering if it will only make it worse, when the events of Thursday afternoon make his mind up for him. He woke up in the morning late as usual, but the coffee didn’t help wake him up the way it usually does. He had plans to shower, shave, and go live today (finally) even though he hasn’t really felt like it since he left Cas’s place, but he fell asleep on the couch by mistake. He’s startled awake when Sam comes in from classes, and he bolts upright, disoriented and fuzzy-headed.

“Holy shit, were you sleeping _again?”_ Sam asks, sounding exasperated. 

“Shut up,” Dean says weakly, but he barely gets the words out of his mouth before his stomach is lurching and he’s running like a bat out of hell to fall to his knees in front of the toilet where he empties the contents of his stomach.

He feels instantly better immediately afterwards, and meets Sam’s questioning look with one of his own. “Hope you feel bad now. I’m over here barfing my guts out and you’re judging me for napping on the couch.”

“Please,” Sam says, not buying it for a second. “You haven’t been sick all week.”

“Apparently I was gearing up for it,” Dean says, grabbing a drink from the fridge to replenish what he just threw up. 

“What the hell’s on your neck?” Sam asks suddenly.

_Shit._

“Is that—is that a bite mark? On your mating gland?”

Dean swallows hard and tries to think on his feet. “I know it looks bad, but it didn’t actually break the skin,” he lies. “Should fade soon.”

“Was it a work thing?” Sam asks.

“No,” Dean lies again. “Stayed with an alpha friend of mine before I came here. He went into a rut and I helped him out.”

“Gross,” Sam says automatically. “I know you didn’t share your heat with anybody, so you can’t be pregnant.” Then his eyes go wide. “Oh my god, you have pining sickness!”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to scoff. “I do not have _pining sickness_ after spending less than a week with an alpha, don’t be stupid.”

“You have all the symptoms! You smell... funky—”

“Thanks a lot, asswipe.”

Sam frowns but keeps going. “You can’t get out of bed, aren’t motivated to work, have no interest in anything, and now you’re vomiting!”

“Or, and this is gonna sound crazy so just hear me out for a second.” He pauses for dramatic effect, then finishes, “Maybe I’m just good old-fashioned sick.”

“Then why do you smell different?”

“Because I’m sick,” Dean says, speaking slowly like that might help him understand what he’s saying.

Sam keeps going like Dean never spoke at all. “If it _is_ pining sickness, you’ll have to go to a doctor. You can get really, really sick really fast.”

“I feel fine,” Dean assures him. “You’ll see. This time tomorrow, I’ll be good as new.”

Except he isn’t. He doesn’t throw up again the next day, but he’s just as tired as he has been the rest of the week, and according to Sam, his “funky scent” is starting to get worse. Because he isn’t sure that going to see Cas is a good idea when he isn’t feeling 100%, he asks Cas if they can Facetime on Saturday instead.

Cas agrees right away, so when Sam slips out for a bit, he disappears into his bedroom and calls Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

Just seeing Cas’s face on the screen and hearing his voice for the first time in a week makes him feel better than he has in _days,_ and his smile is bright enough to show it. “Jeez, you couldn’t make yourself look a little rougher so I don’t feel like such a slob?” he jokes.

“You hardly look like a slob,” Cas replies. “Though you do look tired. Haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Never got so much sleep in my life,” Dean admits. “I don’t know. I think I have a bit of a bug or something.”

“You’re sick?” Cas asks, the concern in his eyes plain even on the screen.

“Not bad or anything. I have no energy, and I kinda yacked the other day, but just the once. Sam said I smell funny, too, but that could be because he’s just a jerk,” he says with a laugh.

“It does sound like a mild stomach bug of some sort,” Cas agrees. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Thanks, but I’m okay as long as I can sleep.” Then, because he wants to just get the idea out of his head, he asks, “You’ve been feeling okay?”

Cas looks confused for a moment, then seems to clue in. “I don’t think I caught whatever you have.”

Which seems weird, considering how close they’d been the whole time. Unless it really _is_ pining sickness. “And you’re sleeping okay and everything?”

Cas looks away for the first time and he remembers suddenly what a terrible liar he is. “I’ve slept worse.”

“Slept better, too, though,” Dean surmises.

“Yes, I’ve slept better,” Cas confesses. 

So Cas definitely isn’t having the same kind of symptoms he is. “Sam, uh, kinda mentioned pining sickness.”

Cas’s eyes go wide immediately. “That’s serious, Dean.”

“I don’t know if that’s what it is,” he reiterates. “I don’t feel too bad other than feeling like I could sleep the day away. Do you think it’s possible, though?”

“I felt like we shared a profound bond while you were here,” Cas says, somewhat nervously if his eyes flicking away mean anything. “So if you felt anything like that, I can see how suddenly being away from the scent you were surrounded by so much of our time together would affect you, yes.”

Amused, Dean repeats, “A profound bond, huh?”

“That’s what I said,” Cas says, almost haughty about it. It reminds him of the time Cas tackled him to the bed and said something about how omegas were supposed to be meek. He smiles without meaning to, and Cas catches him. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing. Was just thinkin’ about that time I sassed you and you tackled me to the bed,” he explains.

“Which time?” Cas asks, and that makes him laugh out loud for what might be the first time in days. It feels _good._ Actually talking to and seeing Cas feels good, too.

“I don’t know how you put up with me,” he teases.

“It was easier than it seems,” Cas says, smiling at him fondly. “The house is too quiet without you.”

“I planned to check in more, just haven’t been feelin’ up for it. Hell, before I got sick I was thinking we could’ve grabbed that meal tonight if you were still interested.”

“I would have been,” Cas says quickly. “Perhaps next weekend if you’re feeling up to it.”

“That’d be good.” Because he’s alone in the house and he feels like Cas would appreciate it, he says, “Kinda sucks having to wait that long.”

Cas smiles a little, almost like he’s happy Dean said that but doesn’t want to seem _too_ happy. It’s adorable. “For you too?”

“Yeah, man,” Dean says, aiming for indifference even though his heart’s going a mile a minute now that he’s admitted this. “Sorta got used to you bein’ around,” he says with a crooked smile that he hopes conveys that he’s only half joking.

“I miss you, too, Dean,” Cas says.

Something about hearing Cas be his usual no bullshit self only makes him miss Cas more. “You workin’ too hard without me?”

“I’m sure you would think so, though it’s the norm for me.”

“I meant to check in more,” Dean tells him again. “I didn’t mean to just drop off the map.”

“Don’t worry about that. I know you have much higher priorities in your life than me.”

“You’re probably higher up there than you think.”

That has Cas smiling for real now, a big one that Cas doesn’t seem to be able to control, though he does duck his head to try to hide it. It’s just as endearing as everything else about him and Dean wonders for the millionth time how somebody else hasn’t already snatched Cas up. The thought has his stomach churning with nerves and jealousy and a possessiveness he didn’t even know he had the capacity to feel.

“With me outta commission for the week, you’re not gonna go find some other omega to have dinner with, are ya?” The second the words are out of his mouth he hates himself for sounding needy and desperate, but he also _needs_ to hear that Cas isn’t ditching him.

“You could be out of commission for a decade and I’d still be waiting patiently in the wings,” Cas promises. “There’s nothing to worry about on that front. Especially not with my bite on your neck.”

Something about that clicks for him for the first time. “Nobody else is gonna smell right for you until it fades.” _If_ it fades.

“Nobody smelled right until I met you anyway.” God, the way Cas just says shit like that like it’s no big deal never fails to set him back onto his heels. “I’m not complaining.” Then, seeming to hear what he just said, he adds, “Other than for you and your discomfort, of course.”

“‘s not so bad now that I don’t have to cover it every day in front of Sam. I told him it just happened.”

“So you’ll have a few more days before he gets suspicious then.” Fuck. Why didn’t he think of that? “Is it... fading at all?”

“No.”

“I’ll make some calls and see what I can find out. The doctor I’ve been seeing specializes in hormones for alphas and omegas, so she might know.”

“I forgot you said something about seeing a doctor,” Dean realizes. “You wouldn’t tell me what for before.”

“Because you hated my guts,” Cas points out.

“Don’t hate your guts anymore.”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

“How about you tell me and let me be the judge of that?”

Cas looks away again, and he can see the blush rising up his neck and spreading along his cheeks. “I’m sure you noticed I lack many of the typical alpha traits.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why we get along so well. You don’t act all alpha and I sure as shit don’t act like a helpless little omega.”

“I love that about you,” Cas says before continuing. “I have low testosterone levels even after taking enhancements, and my doctor advised me that the best way to boost them is to knot an omega.”

Dean’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Bet they’re nice and high now,” he jokes. Cas flushes even further but nods. “Why’s it matter if they’re low anyway? I like you without the alpha bullshit.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says with a small smile. “Without more alpha-typical hormone levels, though, I’m much less likely to be able to father children.” _Kids._ Dean’s heart thuds at the mere mention of them. It’s probably the only omega thing about him, but he wants a fucking hoard of them. One kid in each arm and one wrapped around each leg, maybe another one climbing on his alpha. “So that led me to you.”

Which wound up working really fucking well for him. “Well, I’ve never been the kinda guy to turn down a friend in need, so if you need to knot an omega every now and then for your health, I guess I’ll offer myself up for another round of the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“That’s very selfless of you, Dean, thank you.”

Dean can’t help but crack a smile. “Seriously, though. You’re a good guy. You should have everything you want, and if that’s kids, I wanna help you do what you gotta do to get them.”

“I appreciate it.”

They talk a little bit more about Cas’s work and Dean’s move into Sam’s place, and then end the call after making plans to watch some more Queer Eye together but apart until Dean feels better. When he ends their call, he feels better than he has in days, but remarkably tired again. Considering he’s already in his bed, he decides to take a mid-afternoon nap, and is once again woken up by Sam coming home. Well, the knock on his door before Sam barges into his room.

Startled, Dean pops up and hits his brother with a withering glare. Sam’s cucumber-melon scent hits him, and he can feel the bile rising up his throat in an instant. He _just_ manages to grab the garbage can in his room in time to throw up into it, and just like last time, he feels perfectly fine as soon as he’s done vomiting.

“What the hell?” Sam asks.

Dean swipes his hand over the sweat on his brow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Sammy, but both times were right after you got home.” He pauses, reconsiders, then says, “Okay, maybe do take it the wrong way. Hell of a coincidence.”

“Ha ha,” Sam says humorlessly. “It was also the same time of day, give or take a half hour.”

“Both times after I woke up, too.”

“Which isn’t surprising since you’re sleeping, what 15 hours a day?”

He knew he was sleeping a lot, but hearing Sam say it like that still catches him off guard. He’s used to getting less than eight hours a night, so this is really, really out of character for him. “Maybe I should go see a doctor,” he relents. “If I’m not back to myself by Monday, I’ll call and make an appointment. The weirdest part is that beside being tired, I don’t feel sick.”

“You just threw up,” Sam pointed out.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I mean, usually before you’re sick your stomach feels gross, right?” Sam nods. “I don’t get any of that. It’s like I’m totally fine and then all of the sudden I’m like, ‘Oh, I’m gonna barf.’ And literally the _second_ I’m done throwing up it’s like it never happened. I could eat a steak dinner right now without even blinking an eye.”

“That’s disgusting.”

He doesn’t disagree, but it also is what it is. He throws up again the next day, and so he wakes up bright and early Monday morning to schedule an appointment to see his doctor. He gets in early that afternoon, and although he’s not particularly nervous, he’s not feeling his best while he’s sitting up on the paper-covered examination table waiting for the doctor to come in.

The door opens and the doctor he’s had since he presented walks in. “Well if it isn’t my favorite patient,” Tessa jokes.

“Dude, don’t you age?” he wonders, looking at the pretty face that’s as wrinkle-free as it was when he met her.

“I’ll take the compliment,” she laughs. “Thank you.” She turns the computer on and brings up his file, then turns to face him. “I heard you missed your last several STI panel appointments.”

“Oh. You should probably cancel those. I’m not working at Patience anymore, so I don’t need ‘em.”

“When’s the last time you worked?”

He thinks back. “Almost two months ago.”

“You haven’t been with anybody since then?”

“Just the one guy, but I met him at work and we were both tested that day and neither of us have been with anybody else, so I know we’re good. You know I don’t mess with that kinda thing.”

She nods. “Well, let’s get a read on your vitals before we dive too deep into anything else.” She stands up and gets the blood pressure cuff in place on his arm, puts the little clamp thingy on his finger for his pulse, and sticks a thermometer in his mouth. Once everything’s done, she notes it all down, and says, “Let me just plug that into your chart. Hm, heartbeat’s a little high for you. Are you nervous?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” She turns back to face him and says, “Should we address the elephant in the room?”

Dean’s eyebrows lift. “My pretty face? Not gonna lie, Doc, I thought you were immune.”

“I am,” she says dryly. “I meant your mating bite. Congratulations! Who’s the lucky person?”

“Oh,” he chuckles. “No. This is, well,” he fumbles. “It was a brand originally, but it turned out to be a big misunderstanding.”

She seems skeptical, but says, “Okay. So are you here for a hormone shot?”

“Nah, not really.” It’s weird, but the idea of Cas’s mark fading now seems all wrong somehow. “It might be related, though. I don’t know if I’ve got pining sickness or what, but I spent a week with an alpha, helped him out with his rut, and pretty much as soon as I left his place I started feeling like shit.”

“Can you elaborate?”

Dean tells her about how tired he is no matter how much he sleeps, his once a day vomiting, and that Sam said he smells different. 

“I’d like to get a read on your urine before we go any further.” She turns back to her table and hands him a cup. “The lab’s across the hall.”

“What’s my urine gonna tell you?” he wonders, taking the cup all the same.

“I’ll let you know when you give it to the lab,” she says with a smile. “Take your time, and I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes, okay?”

Peeing in a cup is far from the worst thing he’s ever done, so he does it without complaint and then goes back to wait in the office. True to her word, it’s about five minutes later that she comes in.

“When did you last go into heat?” she asks.

“Uh.” Dean pulls out his phone to look at the calendar. He knows it was a Saturday because Cas bit him the day before, so he tells her the date. “And I don’t know if this matters or not, but it was the worst heat of my goddamn life.”

“How so?”

“It was twice as long as usual and about ten times as painful that time.”

“Was this before or after the brand?” she wonders.

“After. The day after, actually.”

“Were you branded during sex?”

“Yeah. Well, after, but we were still tied.”

She looks up from where she has been taking notes and asks. “So the mark on your neck right now is more than eight weeks old?”

“I guess, yeah.”

She makes a few more notes then says. “Well, that all lines up nicely.”

“What does?”

“Dean, you’re pregnant.”

Dean’s _sure_ he heard her wrong. “I’m what?”

“You’re pregnant.” She holds up a little white stick in her gloved hand, and even from here he can see the dark double lines on it. 

Dean shakes his head. This is impossible. “There’s no way.”

“Dean, I know this must have come as a shock—”

“No, I mean it’s actually, literally _impossible._ I didn’t even have sex during my heat.”

“But you had sex the day before. Unprotected, right?”

“Yeah, the night before,” he repeats.

“Sperm can live inside of a fertile omega for up to five days.”

Okay, now he can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. “Five days?” he chokes out.

“Based on your symptoms and the timeline, I feel confident you’re a little over eight weeks.”

“I’m eight weeks pregnant?” He’s been growing a little person inside of him for _eight weeks_ and he had no fucking idea? He’s just been walking around, living his normal life, eating shitty food and chugging— “Fuck. _Fuck._ I was drinking. I drank beer.” His hand covers his stomach protectively as the horrifying thought of anything happening to—the baby? _His baby—_ because he had a couple of beers occurs to him. “Is it gonna be okay? Did I... did I do something to hurt the baby?” he croaks.

“No,” Tessa says calmly. “We’re talking a few beers and not a bender or anything, right?” Dean nods, tears already clouding his vision. “There’s no reason to believe something like that would affect your baby.”

“But what if it did?”

“I’ll schedule an ultrasound, okay?” Dean nods vigorously. “Just to be super, super cautious and set your mind at ease. Again, I want to make sure you know the chances of a couple of beers here and there affecting a baby in this stage of pregnancy are almost nil. So it’s not anything you need to stress about.”

“I didn’t know,” he tells her, his eyes burning even more now. “I never would’ve—if I knew, I never—”

“I know,” she says. She’s using her doctor voice on him now, and instead of pissing him off like it has in the past, it’s oddly comforting. She wouldn’t bullshit him like this, he knows that. “I know this has all been a shock to you. How do you feel?”

 _How does he feel?_ “Like my whole world just narrowed down to the baby in my belly.”

She smiles softly. “Did you want children?”

“Yeah. I mean, not right now, but I’ve always wanted them.”

“And the father?”

 _Holy fuck._ Wait. Five days? What the hell is he gonna do about _that?_

“Four different guys fucked me in the five days leading up to my heat.”

“Yes, but the chances of any alpha wanting to sleep with a pregnant omega who wasn’t _their_ omega is extremely rare. Usually the only time we see that is when there was a bond between both parties before the pregnancy took. If you’ve been with the alpha who bit you in the last few weeks, then that’s your baby’s father.”

Oh thank God. Cas is the father of his baby. Cas, the alpha who was supposed to have such low testosterone that he’d never be able to sire children knocked him up the first fucking time they fucked. The first time Cas ever slept with an omega. It’s fucking ridiculous that he’s proud of Cas, but that’s the biggest thing he’s thinking.

“I think he’s, uh, gonna hit the roof a little,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure he’ll be good with it.”

“I’m glad,” she says. “And if he isn’t...?”

“Don’t matter,” Dean says without even having to think. “I’ll raise my baby on my own if I have to.” Technically he doesn’t have a damn job and he’s got a single bedroom to his name, but he’ll make it work. 

“I bet this makes the mark on your neck make a little bit more sense now, huh?” she laughs.

Dean frowns, his head still spinning so much that he’s not sure he could add one plus one if he had to. “It didn’t fade because I was knocked up?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Dean, does the person who branded you know that the mark hasn’t faded?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“And neither of you know what that means?”

Dean sits up a little straighter. “Why? What does it mean?”

She looks at him curiously. “Are you really telling me you didn’t Google it before you came here?”

“I got my friend to look into it for me but she said she couldn’t find anything.”

She raises her eyebrows again. “I think you’re going to want to talk to your friend when you leave here. Go ahead and Google it.”

“Why?”

She just keeps looking at him, but she looks amused now, so he mumbles something under his breath about what the hell is he paying her for if he’s doing all the work, but opens his browser and types in, ‘Brand not fading.’

Every single result that pops up on the first page has two words jumping out at him that simultaneously change everything and make everything about the last eight weeks make perfect fucking sense.

“True mates.”

He’s going to _kill_ Charlie.

Castiel isn’t expecting company Monday night, and considering he isn’t anticipating any deliveries, to say he’s surprised by his doorbell ringing is an understatement. He woke up in a particularly foul mood this morning, brought on by the fact that he couldn’t detect a single trace of Dean’s scent on the pillow he left behind a week ago no matter how hard he tried. 

He jogs down the stairs and to the front door, anticipating Gabriel to be standing in his front foyer before he even gets to the door, but instead, only sees a shadow of somebody much taller than Gabriel through the frosted glass. He feels so many things all at once when he opens the door to Dean standing there it takes him a moment to react.

“Heyya, Cas,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Castiel breathes, and he steps forward to wrap his omega in his arms. Thankfully, Dean’s arms wind around him without hesitation so Castiel doesn’t have to stutter an apology about stepping out of line. “It’s so good to see you,” he whispers.

“Can I scent you?” Dean asks immediately. Castiel bares his throat right there in the doorway, and he would swear on everything he owns that he’s never felt happier than the moment Dean’s nose drags along his scent glad for the first time in more than a week. “Fuckin’ missed you, Cas.”

 _Oh._ That feels _so good_ to hear. “I missed you.”

“Scent me,” Dean insists.

Castiel drops his nose to his neck in a heartbeat. That fresh-air, sharp pine scent hits him, and he can feel his eyes water with relief as everything he was missing so fiercely over the last week comes back to him all at once. Dean is his mate, his home, his omega, and having him here in his arms where he belongs is exactly what he’s been craving so badly.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers again.

Dean huffs a watery laugh, sounding as choked up as Castiel feels, before he says, “Mind if I come in?”

Castiel takes a step back, feeling sheepish about his lack of manners. “Sorry. You surprised the manners right out of me.” Now that he can look past his face, he sees that Dean has his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and the same suitcase he showed up with two weeks ago at his feet. His heart leaps and he tries to tell himself not to jump to conclusions that could get him really hurt if he’s wrong. 

“Let me take that for you,” he offers, and for once, Dean hands his bag over. Castiel hangs it on the railing at the bottom of the stairs and turns back to Dean with a face-splitting smile. “This is the best surprise I could’ve imagined.”

“Oh, just wait,” Dean chuckles.

He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he’s too buoyed by Dean’s presence to worry about it. “Do you want to sit?”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually. Been kinda go, go, go all day.”

“Is everything alright?” Castiel checks as he leads Dean to the couch, barely resisting resting his hand on the small of his back in the process. 

“Everything’s great,” Dean assures him.

“Are you finally feeling better?”

“I mean, for now, yeah,” Dean says. They each sit on the couch, and as much as Castiel wants to move over until they’re pressed together from thigh to knee and wrap a protective arm around Dean, he makes himself keep some space between them. “If history repeats itself though, I should probably have a well-placed garbage can close by in the next hour or so.”

His good mood plummets at the idea of Dean still feeling unwell. “Were you not able to get an appointment today?”

“Oh, I did. Just came from there actually,” Dean says. “It’s uh, not something that’s gonna go away anytime soon. Probably.”

He has no idea what that means, but it seems unpleasant. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I got a question for you,” Dean says suddenly.

“Alright.”

“Do I smell different to you?” 

Castiel frowns. “No. You smell the same as you always have, I think.”

“Come take another whiff,” Dean says, tilting his head and inviting him in for more.

He’s not about to say no to that after so long without Dean’s scent surrounding him like he prefers, so he leans in and presses his nose directly to the mark still on Dean’s scent gland and takes a deep breath in. He smells incredible, but no different than before.

“You are still the best thing I’ve ever smelled,” Castiel says, reluctantly backing away after several long, deep breaths. “But no different than what I’m used to. I’m afraid Sam was just giving you a hard time after all.”

“He actually wasn’t,” Dean says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

Castiel blinks, hoping a few extra seconds of thinking will help him understand. Why would Dean smell different to Sam but not to him? “I’m not following.”

“Did you ever Google why what we originally thought was a brand didn't fade?”

“I didn’t,” Castiel answers, wondering where Dean is going with this. “I called my doctor earlier this morning but she hasn’t returned my phone call.”

“Well, I can save her the trouble.”

Castiel feels like his heart is going to beat through his chest. “You know why it didn’t fade?”

“Yes and no,” Dean answers. “It could be a combination of or either one of two reasons.”

“What are they?”

“It’s either because we’re true mates or because I’m knocked up, or both.”

He feels like he can’t breathe. There’s nothing but a persistent buzzing in his ears and he can’t make sense of the jumbled thoughts all racing through his mind at the same time. He has a true mate? _Dean’s_ his true mate and he’s—

“You’re _pregnant?”_ Castiel gasps. Dean nods, looking happy but guarded, and Castiel feels his eyes mist over with tears.

Dean’s having a baby.

He’s going to be such a wonderful parent, and just the idea of seeing Dean’s belly getting round with child brings so much happiness to him that he doesn’t even care that it’s not his. If they’re true mates—honestly, even if they aren’t—he’ll be there for Dean to raise his child with him if that’s what Dean wants. He’ll give his mate and his child everything they could possibly need or want.

“Oh, Dean,” he breathes happily. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Well, thanks I guess, but it’s not like I made it on my own.”

He would be lying if he said there isn’t some bitterness that there’s another alpha who helped Dean through his heat and fathered his child, but he pushes it down to deal with later so that he can be a supportive partner to Dean. “I understand that, and it isn’t a problem for me.”

Dean frowns, his scent souring for the first time. “Damn.”

Castiel’s expression probably matches Dean’s at this point. “I’m sorry, I’m still playing catch up here. Was that not the right thing to say?”

Dean laughs bitterly. “Gee, I dunno, Cas. I wasn’t expecting any of this either, you know, and I know we didn’t plan this but I thought—I guess I’m an idiot but I thought you’d be so happy you’d be through the fucking roof.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says again. “I am. I want to be here for you and your child and to be as involved as you want me to be, but I don’t want to step on the toes of the other alpha either. I’m trying to be respectful to both of you, but I am happy, Dean. I’m thrilled, honestly.”

“The other alpha?” Dean repeats. “Jesus, Cas,” Dean breathes, running his hand down his face. “You think there’s—and you were just gonna...?” Castiel tilts his head to the side and tries to piece together those words to create a sentence that makes sense. “There isn’t another alpha, Cas. _You’re_ the father. You and me are having a baby. Together. You knocked me up.”

Okay, now he _really_ can’t breathe. It feels like all of the air is trapped in a bubble of disbelief in his lungs and lodged somewhere near his windpipe. “What?” he wheezes. “But your—your heat? You weren't, uh, when we were together...?”

“According to my doctor, your stubborn little swimmers hung out long enough after we met at Patience to get my ass pregnant when I went into heat.”

“They can _do that?”_ Castiel wonders, still half out of his mind at this point.

“Was news to me, too,” Dean says with a smile. “There’s a chance it could be any of the other four alphas that week that knotted me before you, but according to the doctor, since you could get it up in bed and still think I smell good, you’re probably the father. And, uh, I know it’s a shit ton to ask, but even if you’re not...”

“I will be,” Castiel says without thinking. There’s no part of him that wants to leave Dean on his own to deal with this. Not that he’s incapable, of course, he’s sure Dean would find a way to thrive in any circumstance. But he wants to be there to see Dean’s belly grow, to rub his back when it gets sore and tell him he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen when Dean’s nine months pregnant and hating every minute of the pregnancy. It should be him there for Dean, and now that he has thought about it, he’s absolutely certain of it. “I will be,” he says again, more firmly this second time. “If you’ll give me the chance, I’ll happily devote my entire life to raising your child as if it’s my own. As if it’s ours.”

Dean swipes his palm under his eye, making Castiel wonder if a tear slipped free Dean doesn’t want him to see. “And it probably is. Like, high, high chances,” Dean explains. “I just don’t want to rope you into this with you thinkin’ it’s 100% yours. ‘Cause it might not be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cas promises. “I want you both.”

Dean’s smile grows, and for the first time, he seems excited about the news he came here to share with him. “We’re true mates, Cas, and we’re gonna have a baby.”

So much joy and happiness floods through him all at once it bubbles out of him in laughter. “You’re my true mate,” Castiel says, somehow completely awed but validated at the same time. “I hoped. I hoped you were my mate so badly. It’s all I’ve been trying not to think about since you walked in here the last time. My mate,” he sighs happily. He gazes at Dean through the film of unshed tears, which is when he sees Dean looks like he’s trying not to be every bit as emotional as he is. “My beautiful, sassy, smart-mouthed mate, _pregnant_ with my child. God, Dean, I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

“What the hell are you still doin’ all the way over there then?” Dean chokes out.

Castiel laughs breathlessly as he moves over to close the distance between them. He had every intention of wrapping his arms around Dean again for another hug, but Dean grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him in until their lips come together. He makes a surprised but happy sound against the plush fullness of Dean’s supple lips, and his hands come up to frame Dean’s gorgeous face—no, _his mate’s_ gorgeous face.

How on earth did he get so lucky?

He kisses Dean with all of the love and affection and tenderness and appreciation that he’s always felt towards him but is finally able to understand and indulge in, and the sweet sound of astonishment from Dean a moment before he feels him really sink into the kiss makes Castiel’s inner alpha roar with triumph. Dean opens his mouth and Castiel licks inside, meeting Dean’s tongue with his own for the first true taste of Dean in far, far too long, but never again. Never again will he go a week without kissing Dean, without tracing the contours of his face and feeling his lips aligned so flawlessly with his own, without showing him how deeply he cares for him. 

Dean tilts his head to the side a little bit and increases the pressure of his lips, and Castiel is able to delve a little deeper, to kiss him more firmly and really feel his blood start to pump through his veins. As much as he wants to drown in the enticing heat in Dean’s scent as it begins to get hotter, he also knows how easy it will be for the two of them to get carried away and that now is probably not the best time, so he (reluctantly) pulls away bit by bit until he and Dean are merely breathing against each other’s lips.

“I—I missed you so damn much,” Dean whispers, effectively melting his heart into a puddle. “I kept tryin’ to tell myself I didn’t because it was dumb to miss you so much when I barely even know you, but I did. I thought about you all the frigging time.”

“I was miserable without you,” Castiel tells him. “Every second of every day since you left, except for when we were talking. I’m so glad you’re here now.”

Dean swallows and backs up a bit, looking down and rubbing his palms over his jeans, like he’s nervous about something. “Was sorta hoping it could be for good.” 

He _hoped_ that’s what the bags meant when Dean showed up, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “I would love nothing more. We can get you set up in your old room again if you want—”

“No. I wanna sleep with you. I want to be _together,_ with you, if you want that.”

“I want that,” Castiel says immediately. “I want that more than anything.”

“Good, cause I kinda had something else in mind for my old room.”

“You don’t want the nursery in the room across from us? The room closest to us?”

“No, I do,” Dean says, reaching over to lay his hand on Castiel’s knee. “Thing is, Sam either needs a roommate or somewhere to stay, and since I don’t know how long I’ll be able to work before I start showing and no other alphas but you are gonna get turned on by seeing me looking like I swallowed a beach ball, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to keep paying his rent right now.”

Dean looks up at him with his forest green eyes pleading at him like he thinks Castiel could ever deny him anything. “Sam is more than welcome to stay with us,” Castiel says. “Or if it’s easier on him to be closer to school, I can help you pay for his rent once you’re no longer able to. But if he wants to come here, I’d be happy to have him. It will be nice to have a full house for once.”

“You’re just gonna pay for me to stay here and Sam to stay in his place, no questions asked?” Dean questions.

“You’re my mate, Dean. My family. I’ll do anything I can to support you and those who matter to you. We have plenty of space here, and I bring in enough money to support all of us, and our baby,” he adds, remembering again that Dean is _pregnant._ His eyes drop down to Dean’s abdomen, and he smiles softly when he thinks of their baby growing there. “If you got pregnant during your heat, how far along does that make you?”  
  
“About eight weeks,” Dean says. “Explains why I had a hard time squeezing my ass into some of my jeans when I tried to go to the doctor today.”

“Your ass is perfect,” Castiel assures him. Then, “May I?” He gestures to Dean’s belly, and Dean blushes as his eyes flick away. 

“Not like you’re gonna feel anything.”

“Humor me,” Castiel says quietly. “Please?”

“Damn puppy eyes,” Dean grumbles. “Yeah, come on.”

Dean even lifts his shirt so that he can get his hands right on his freckled skin, and Castiel is already smiling bigger than he ever has as he splays his hands on Dean’s stomach. Dean’s right, he can’t feel anything, and from this angle, Dean’s belly looks the same as it always has, and yet his eyes fill with tears all over again. He’s inches away from the life he and Dean created together. It’s just beneath his hands, warm and safe in Dean’s womb where he or she will stay until they’re ready to greet the world, and although he knows this kind of thing happens every day, it’s never been _his_ baby and _his_ mate and that means he’s never been more awed by the miracle of life than he is right now.

“Thank you,” he chokes out, lifting his eyes to Dean’s. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

To his surprise, a fat tear drips down Dean’s face, and Dean sighs wetly as he wipes it away. “Apparently the hormones are kicking in.”

Castiel lifts his thumb to erase the tear track with a wobbly smile of his own. “I think I’ve already almost cried three times since you got here, so you’re in good company.”

“You better not be tryin’ to steal my preggo thunder,” Dean threatens lightly. “I’m the one who’s gonna get fat and have to push a fucking football outta my ass, so I get all the glory here, alright?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Castiel says, feeling so incredibly fond of Dean he feels like he might burst. “Do you want to go unpack your things?”

“Later,” Dean says. “I just wanna sit here with you and soak it all up now that I know everything’s gonna be okay.”

“It will be,” he assures him. Castiel takes that as an invitation to wrap his arm around Dean’s shoulders and pull him in until they’re pressed closely to one another. He presses a kiss to his temple and says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you found out and you had to go through that alone.”

“‘s okay,” Dean slurs, leaning more heavily against him and turning his head so that his nose is pressed into Castiel’s neck.

It’s so cute he can hardly stand it. “Do you need a nap, my sweet omega?” he asks, rubbing his hand in soft circles between his shoulder blades.

“Maybe a lil one.” Helplessly endeared, Castiel lays back on the couch with his head on the armrest, and before he can so much as reach for Dean to pull him down with him, Dean flops forwards heavily and wiggles upwards until his nose is right back to where it was before. “There. Don’t leave, k?”

Castiel smiles softly. With Dean fitted so perfectly in his arms, their child growing in Dean’s belly between them, and their mingling scents quickly dragging him into a relaxed-enough state that he, too, might indulge in a little mid-day nap, there’s literally nowhere he’d rather be.

“Not for anything,” he promises.

He drifts off only minutes later, thoughts of Dean’s belly getting round, a healthy baby wailing in the middle of the night, and Dean curled up in his arms every day for the rest of his life dancing in his head, knowing absolutely that their future together will be sweeter than anything he could possibly dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **If you do not like the idea of a pregnant!Dean, then this is the end of the story for you!** I hope because you got this far, you know without a doubt that Dean and Cas will live happily ever after the way all true mates should in A/B/O stories. I also hope you enjoyed their unconventional, accidental love story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I thank you so, so much for reading! 
> 
> If you _are_ interested in reading about pregnant!Dean and how he and Castiel handle Dean's pregnancy and a brand-new baby, I have good news for you: **There's two more chapters coming!** The next chapter will be posted as the second part of this series on Monday, and the last chapter is coming Thursday! :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to **hit that kudos button** if you enjoyed yourself!
> 
> Oh! If you want to follow me on social media, you can find me [ here](https://twitter.com/rainbowstiel) on Twitter!


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